


Just Come Home

by TwoSteps



Category: The Greatest Showman (2017)
Genre: Angst, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-02-14
Packaged: 2019-03-03 07:17:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 30,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13336191
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TwoSteps/pseuds/TwoSteps
Summary: "Cold bones. Yeah, that’s my loveShe glides away, like a ghostDoes she know that we bleed the same?Don’t wanna cry but I break that way"-SYML- Where's My LoveAs Phillip and Anne try suppressing their feelings for one another, Phillip meets an old friend from school. Little does he know, he will be a cause for war throughout New York. When Mr. Bell's men send a message to Barnum and his circus, everyone fears it will only be the start of a long and bloody conflict. Phillip is then kidnapped, everyone frantically scrambling to find the young Carlyle before its too late





	1. Chapter 1

She descended down the magnificent marble stairs holding back tears, trying to keep her composure just long enough to make it out the front doors. _The Help_ , the words burned into Anne’s brain, she couldn’t believe that she was naive enough to think her and Phillip could be happy together. They were apart of two drastically different social circles; he was a white man, a rich one at that, and she was colored woman with a family name of no importance.

Still holding her dress off the ground, she didn't dare look back as she pushed the door open and stepped into the rainy fall night. She would be damned if she broke down in front of Phillip’s parents, _in front of Phillip’s crowd_ , she mentally added.

Her disguise crumbled apart as soon as she stepped outside. She couldn’t control her tears, having to lean against a brick wall to stay balanced. (Little did she know, Phillip was in the same state, sitting at the base of the theater’s stairs in tears.) She slid down the rough wall and sat on the muddy ground, tears destroying her makeup as she tried to unsuccessfully compose herself. The gentle rain began to grow steadier and she lifted her head to see Barnum’s circus looming in the distance, a beacon in the darkness. She stood up, and without a second thought, threw off her heels and broke out into a run. She knew she must have looked crazy, running in the rain bare-foot and in a dress, running like she was being chased by some demon. She felt like she was, she was running from her emotions, from the theater, from the unjustified hatred of her and her ‘kind’, from Phillip Carlyle.

Anne slipped through the circus’ back door in an attempt to try and be discrete. She didn’t want to talk, she just wanted to be in the dirt arena again, swinging around on her bar and getting lost in herself. Anne froze when she heard laughter from the rest of the performers, who were seemingly in the middle of a very passionate card game.

W.D. glanced up for a split second as he went to grab another card, his smile instantly sliding off his face when he caught sight his little sister in the doorway, shivering from the cold, her dress muddied. It was such a contrast to how she looked before going to that stupid play with Carlyle (which he explicitly told her was a bad idea.) The rest of the performers looked up, confused as to why the man was suddenly so quiet, and then everyone caught sight of Anne.

She shifted uncomfortably, ducking her head to shield her tears from everyone’s view. There was an awkward beat where no one moved, the air dead silent before she quickly shuffled passed them, wanting to escape the situation as fast as possible. W.D. shot up from his chair and called after her, worry lacing his voice.

“Anne.” When Anne remained quiet and continued walking, W.D. started to run after her, calling her name again. “Anne!”  
She didn’t hear him, for she was too focused on the beautiful red main curtain that was only a few feet away. It felt like a race, to run behind the curtain before she had her meltdown, one that she wasn’t to keen on having in front of the rest of the performers, her _friends_. Suddenly she felt someone grab her forearm and spin her around, pulling her out of her own thoughts. W.D. stood before her, towering over her shivering form.

“What happened?” He demanded.  
He knew she went out with Phillip that evening, the very idea of his little sister out with _him_ had been worrying W.D. all night. Lettie and the others had to find something to keep the man occupied, so he didn’t pace and brood all night. He was just starting to relax when Anne had returned just a few moments ago. When she remained quiet, W.D. grew that much more worried. His hands curled into fists, as scenarios ran through his head of what Phillip could have done to leave his sister in such a state.

“What did he do?” W.D. growled, he looked as if he was ready to hunt Phillip down right now. W.D. always promised himself he would protect Anne, and if Carlyle dared to come back in W.D.’s presence, he wasn’t sure what he’d do to the man.

Anne flinched, pulling herself away from her brother before quickly vanishing behind the curtain. She closed her eyes and exhaled, stepping into the quiet, dimly lit arena. She buried her bare feet in the dirt, opening her eyes when she heard footsteps approach from behind. She didn’t turn around, she didn’t want to hear W.D. talk about all the ways wanted to hurt Phillip. She knew it wasn’t his fault, that was what made this situation all the more painful. They were never meant to be, society wouldn’t allow it.

She was so caught up in her thoughts that she didn’t hear the footsteps grow closer, she jumped slightly when she felt a hand gently rest on her shoulder.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The kind voice asked, Anne turned her head slightly. It was Lettie.

“No,” Anne’s voice broke, betraying her and a look of pain crossed her face. She cleared her throat, steeled her face and tried again. “No. No, I just want to be alone.”

Lettie was quiet for a long moment before slowly retracting her hand. “Ok,” she said softly, “but if you need someone to talk to Sweetheart, you know where to find me.” Anne whispered a thank you, turning around more to look at the woman, her red rimmed eyes just barely holding back tears. Lettie placed a reassuring hand on Anne’s cheek for just a moment before starting to turn away.

“If Phillip comes looking for me, please tell him to leave,” Anne said softly over her shoulder.

She fell into her bed three hours later, her muscles painfully throbbing. Anne had hoped that by swinging around for hours, she would be able to finally sleep. She had never been more wrong. Her head was clear, that much was true, however the only things that remained behind was of Phillip Carlyle, his beautiful blue eyes that stared into her soul, his gentle touch. She sighed, staring up at the ceiling high above her head, the scene from the theater unfolding in her mind once more. His parents had called her The Help before verbally attacking _him_ , and thats when she turned away from him and ran out. Anne huffed, rolling onto her side and firmly shutting her eyes, just wanting to sleep. His eyes stared back at her, the last thing she saw of him was his look of absolute heartbreak and distress as she fled into the night. She hadn’t realized she was crying until she felt W.D. gently take her hand, wiping her tears away. Of course he had stayed awake, waiting up for her. She looked up at him and suddenly they were little kids again, all alone in the world with no one to look out for them.


	2. Chapter 2

Phillip Carlyle was face down on the counter in the bar when Barnum had found him, empty shot glasses scattered around his sleeping form. P.T. figured he’d find the man here, Carlyle had a knack for getting himself lost in a bottle of whiskey. The bruises marking the younger man’s face was the first thing P.T. noticed as he neared an unconscious Phillip. Small cuts also decorated his damaged face, causing little puddles of blood to pool under his head.  
  
“What happened?” Barnum asked, horrified. He slowly took off his top hat, resting it on the sticky counter. He leaned over to Phillip, eying the man’s injuries. His right eye was bruised over and his nose looked rather mangled, it being the source for a majority of the blood on the counter.  
  
“He got in a fight,” the bartender grunted, jerking his thumb to a pile of broken chairs and a table off to the side. Barnum took a moment to look at the destruction in shock, a few fist sized holes also decorated the far corner.  
  
“And you let him stay? Awfully generous of you,” Barnum said skeptically, whenever fights broke out in bars there was almost always arrests made by the police. It was strange indeed that Phillip hadn’t been dragged away in cuffs.  
  
“He said he didn’t have anywhere else to sleep,” the bartender shrugged. That had left Barnum even more confused. _No where to sleep_? The Carlyle's were rich, Phillip arguably the richest, so what the hell happened? “Him covering all the damages also helped his case.” P.T. looked down at Phillip with a sigh, he just wanted to get his partner out of here. Clearly there was something wrong and he wasn’t exactly coping well. Barnum began to shake Phillip awake, it having to take a few good jostles before Phillip grunted, shifting as he lifted his head slightly.  
  
“Barnum?” Phillip slurred, surprised to see the older man standing over him. Carlyle’s eyes sluggishly wandered around the bar, as if he was taking in his surroundings for the first time. “Wha-” he trailed off, sighing as he tried to get a sentence out. He was extremely disoriented- and extremely dizzy.  
  
“Its twelve thirty, how long have you been here?” Barnum said, cocking his head with a good dose of concern.  
  
“Twelve- like in the afternoon?” As soon as he had said it, Phillip saw the daylight outside. There was a stunned silence as the injured man stared at the windows in shock. “Not long enough,” he finally said, sighing again and as he rested his head on the counter. “’M just gonna stay here for a lil while longer, ‘kay?” He said, trying to go back to the unconscious state that Barnum had found him in.  
   
“No, not okay,” Barnum huffed, throwing his hat back on before looking over to the bartender. “Did he pay his tab? We’re leaving.”  
  
“Yes sir, very well if I may add,” the man said from behind the counter, too busy cleaning to look up at Barnum.  
  
“’Course I paid him,‘M still good for my money- if nothing else,” Phillip’s head shot up, offended. Well, at least he was until he clutched his head, having given himself a headache from the quick movement. “Ugh god,” he groaned in pain, his fingers digging into his scalp. Barnum stood up and grabbed Phillip’s left arm, slipping it over his neck as he helped the drunk man stand up. Phillip took an uneasy step forward before stumbling backwards slightly, nearly causing them both to fall over. Once they steadied themselves they began to move towards the exit, Barnum pushing the door open with his free arm. Phillip shut his eyes once they stepped outside, not yet adjusted to the bright sunlight.  
  
“Come on, let’s get back to the circus and clean you up a bit,” Barnum sighed, tugging the man down the side of the road as they began their trek to the building. It was then that Phillip suddenly pushed himself away from P.T. with a surprising amount of control over his limbs. He stood there for a moment, quiet.  
  
“No,” Phillip whispered, pain clouding his eyes as he stumbled backwards a step. This time it wasn’t the alcohol that made him stand unsteady.  
  
“No?” Barnum looked at him, confused.  
  
“No,” Phillip said firmly this time, he suddenly seemed very sober. “I’m not going back to the circus,” he looked up at a very confused Barnum. He turned his gaze down to the dress shoes he was still wearing from the night before, the memories attached with them rather painful.  
  
“You’re in no state to be alone.” Barnum argued, however it seemed to fall on deaf ears for Carlyle’s eyes remained glued to his shoes, his reflection bouncing back at him. Suddenly a crowd bustled passed them, a few girls loudly whispering to each other as they passed caught sight of Phillip.  
  
“Is _that_ Phillip Carlyle?”  
“Did you hear about that girl he was with last night?”  
“Fall from grace much?”  
  
Phillip swallowed hard, trying to ignore the comments as he set his jaw, looking straight ahead as they passed him. There was a moment where Phillip just stood there, lost in his own thoughts before he felt Barnum gently push him, snapping him back to reality.  
  
“Come on,” P.T. said gently, urging him to walk again. They continued their walk to the circus building in silence. Carlyle not bothering to fight P.T. on it again, neither one of them saying anything for a long time.  
  
“I heard you don’t have a roof to sleep under anymore,” Barnum finally broke the silence.  
  
“My parents took back the apartment,” Phillip shrugged, trying not to show how much it bothered him. “They cut me off.” Barnum stuck his hands in his pockets, no longer having to help Phillip walk. P.T. nodded, he didn’t want to poke too much, but rather just listen to what Phillip wanted to tell him. It didn’t seem like Carlyle wanted to offer much, however, for he was quiet for the remainder of the walk to P.T.’s building. They were entering through the back door, not wanting to be in the bustling public that the front offered.  
  
“P.T., wait,” Phillip said as the man reached for the door’s handle. “The other performers, I don’t want them to see me like this. A-” he swallowed hard to keep himself from saying her name. _Anne_ , he didn’t want _Anne_ to see himself like this.  
  
“We’ll go straight up to the offices, don’t worry.”  
  
The performers were off in the opposite corner, tending to their costumes and props as they prepared for tonight’s show. Tom had just told another ridiculous joke, making the rest of the performers laugh heartily when Phillip and Barnum slipped in. Upon hearing all of the commotion, Phillip ducked his head away from them to hide his injures, grateful that they didn't hear him enter. The two began to ascend the stairs when he heard _her_ laugh and he suddenly froze in his steps.  
  
Anne was sitting on the dresser, pinning her hair up while she intently listened to a story Lettie was telling them all. Eliciting yet another laugh from the group, Anne turned her head slightly to slip another bobby pin in place. That’s when she saw him standing on the set of stairs across the room. Her smile instantly slipped off her face and she felt herself go numb, her bobby pin falling to the floor. The rest of the performers grew silent, looking up at Anne and tracing her gaze to the stairs, to Phillip.  
  
“Phillip?” She whispered in disbelief, the room so quiet he could hear her from where he was standing. She could only sit there in shock. His face was bloodied and bruised, him looking nothing like he did the night before. So many questions raced through her head, _what happened_? _Where had he been_? He looked at her for only a second longer before tearing his head away, fleeing up the remaining stairs and into the offices.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! The next chapter will be out either tonight or tomorrow!


	3. Chapter 3

She threw open the door to his study with only fifteen minutes until the show. Phillip had been busy trying to clean the dirt and blood off his face, the vanity mirror in the corner assisting him. He jumped when he heard someone throw the door open, spinning around to see Anne Wheeler. He froze in place, not expecting anyone to come see him, let alone Anne.  
  
“What happened?” She demanded, wasting no time as she quickly shut the door behind her. She was all ready for the show, dawning her elegant purple costume, her pink wig pinned to her head. She waited impatiently, expecting an answer from him. She looked rather intimidating, despite the sequins and glitter. Phillip just stood there by the mirror silently in his dimly lit office. He was stuck on the fact that she was suddenly there, standing in front of him. He hadn’t seen her for nearly twenty-four hours and wasn’t entirely sure it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him.  
  
“What?” He whispered, it being all he could come up with. He was at a complete loss for words, confusion washing over his face. Why was she here? She had left the theater after his parents proceeded to humiliate her, he was surprised she even wanted to be in his presence. He figured she wanted nothing to do with him, he wouldn’t have been surprised, his parents treated her like _dirt_. “What are you doing up h-”  
  
“I have to do this show in a few minutes, and I have to be able to do it clear headed,” Anne said quickly, cutting him off. She was visibly holding back all her emotions. She looked so conflicted, Phillip had thought, she looked split between crying or hitting something. “I can’t do that when you just _show up_ , looking like you just got out of a boxing match.” Her voice wavered slightly, her fingers curling into fists in an attempt to keep herself grounded. When she saw him with Barnum a few hours ago, the image of his damaged face had seared into her brain. She couldn’t shake it out, and she most certainly couldn’t do the show when _that_ was what she saw when she thought of Phillip Carlyle. “You missed practice this morning,” she said it like it was a groundbreaking thing.  
  
“I-” he began before trailing off, shrugging weakly. He was trying so hard to find words for her but was coming up empty handed. There was so many things he wanted to say to her, that his parents are fools, that when he’s around her he doesn’t care what anyone else thinks, that he’s fairly certain he likes her. A small voice in his head was telling him it was more than just ‘ _like_ ’ but neither one of them were ready to hear that yet.  
  
“You _never_ miss practice.” When he hadn’t shown up in the morning, she was petrified, afraid something horrible had happened to him. She had to force herself to just believe that Phillip had blown them all off, everyone else was convinced of that anyway. It kept her sane for the rest of the day, up until he showed up that was. “You had me worried," she admitted, when he said nothing she continued.  
  
“Barnum told us you got into a bar-fight.” She _was_ worried, she still is.  
  
“He shouldn’t have.”  
  
“What happened?”  
  
“Its not important.”  
  
“Seriously? You were nearly _beaten_ to _death_ -”  
  
“What do you want me to say? They were talking about you, saying things no one should ever say about a lady,” he said, a fire awoken in him as he took an indignant step towards her. “It was that group of men that are always in the alley, waiting for one of us to come out. They wanted to fight, they were just trying to poke me enough to get me to.” Phillip really _had_ been trying to keep the peace with the men, but the minute they started digging into Anne was when he had enough.  
  
“You shouldn’t have gotten involved.”  
  
“I’ll be damned if I let someone talk to you like that.” There was a moment where neither one of them talked, digesting what the other had said.  
  
“Don’t say things like that, _Mr. Carlyle_ ,” she said softly, the tone in the room changing completely. Phillip’s back stiffened, she called him Mr. Carlyle when ever she wanted to distance herself from him, which seemed rather frequent. He was about to say something else when one of the performers from below had yelled up to Anne.  
  
“Anne, hurry up! The show is starting, you need to get down here!”  
  
“You need to learn how to take better care of yourself, ” she said sternly. She looked up into his brilliant blue eyes, brow furrowing in thought. He wanted to say something to her, _anything_ , but before he could she turned away from him, swinging open the creaky metal door. She stood in the doorway for a moment, as if having an internal struggle with herself. His heart sank when she didn’t look back, watching her disappear as she ran down the metal steps. His door swung shut with a click and it felt like the theater all over again, him standing alone, shell shocked. 


	4. Chapter 4

“What did he say when you went up there before?” Lettie asked in a hushed tone, mindful of those around them who were starting to fall asleep. The show had went off without a hitch, or ‘ _damn near perfect_ ’ as W.D. had worded it, and while it was worth it, it left the performers completely exhausted. Anne was sitting across from her, legs neatly tucked under herself. The younger girl was pulling off her wig, neatly setting it aside when she heard Lettie’s question.  
  
“That he got into a fight at the bar,” Anne sighed, running her fingers through her tangled curls. Barnum had told them that much, but hearing it from Phillip, and seeing the aftermath, made it all the more real. She rolled her shoulders, trying to ease out the remaining tension left over from the show. The audience seemed to particularly enjoy the performances that night which never ceased to cheer her up. She was especially grateful that a majority of their usual protesters weren’t there. Still, the cloud of Phillip Carlyle lingered over her.  
  
“Men,” Lettie had scoffed, rolling her eyes. She picked up her mirror and began to inspect her beard, tweezers at the ready. “They can’t keep themselves glued together when trouble rears it’s ugly head.”  
  
“Yeah, well apparently he was defending my honor or something like that,” Anne looked down at her fingernails, subconsciously picking at them. “He said he wouldn’t allow someone to speak about me so cruelly.” Lettie let out a thoughtful _hmm_.  
  
“And how do you feel about that?” Lettie asked after a moment, setting down the mirror and tweezers, now very interested in Anne’s answer. Anne inhaled deeply, her body tensing up. _How did she feel about it_? The whole situation made her feel particularly odd and she couldn’t quite put her finger on why.  
  
“I don’t know,” She finally mumbled after a moment of hesitation, not looking up from her nails. “I uh,” she began, still mumbling, “I appreciate that he feels the need to defend me, it just shows how good of a soul he is,” she paused, looking up at Lettie as if silently asking of her opinion on Phillip’s character. The woman just thoughtfully nodded in agreement.  
  
Lettie had always liked Phillip, she had even joked once to Barnum that he and Phillip were the two best ‘high-society’ men she knew. Barnum had quickly and wittily responded that, that was because they were the _only_ two ‘high-society’ men she knew. The two had shared a hearty laugh before Barnum had politely asked her to not call him ‘high-society’ again, it still making him feel uncomfortable. As far as he was concerned, he was still the tailor’s boy, fighting everyday to change someone’s mind about him.  
  
“But I’m not worth his bodily harm,” Anne continued, letting out a loud sigh, pulling her knees to her chest. “Just over some words,” she huffed.  
  
“He seems to think so.”  
  
“Yeah well, he also seems to think that he can brute force people into changing their minds about a ' _colored trapeze girl_ ,'” Anne rolled her eyes. “I’ve made my peace with people not liking me, I don’t need him to defend me.”  
  
“He seems to really care about you,” Lettie offered.  
  
“I don’t think _that’s_ much of a secret,” Anne said. The two were quiet after that for a long while, Anne not knowing what else to say after that and Lettie not being keen on pushing. Anne finally broke the silence with a somewhat suppressed yawn, unable to shake the drowsiness.  
  
“Why don’t you get some sleep? Heaven knows we all need it after that show.”  
  
Anne nodded slowly, standing up and stretching her stiff legs. She murmured a good-night to Lettie before falling into her bed, W.D. already fast asleep in his own bed beside her. Lettie was always one of the last ones awake, enjoying the peace that accompanied the night. She was busy packing away her purple dress when the creak of a door startled her. She looked up to see Phillip Carlyle quietly moving down the stairs, careful not to wake anyone. She watched him walk through the back door, the one that led to the alleyway, letting the door swing shut behind him. She frowned, unsure why he was here so late. Curious, she followed him.  
  
Phillip stepped out into the quiet, rainy, New York night, the smell of cigars still thick in the air. He sighed, sitting down on the muddy cement stairs, glad to be outside for the first time in numerous hours. He had quickly grown to hate his office, feeling like a caged animal, pacing back and forth with nowhere to go. He sighed, enjoying the quiet that the alleyway had to offer at this time of night. He closed his eyes, resting his head against the handrail as he took a sip from a glass he had carried outside with him, the light hustle from the main street echoing in the distance. He heard the door behind him open and he turned around, surprised to see Lettie.  
  
“Hello,” he said, voice husky from a lack of sleep. He looked at her, confused as to why she had followed him outside.  
  
“Hey Carlyle,” she said casually, stepping down to where he was and sitting beside him. He took another sip from his glass, causing her scrunch her nose in disgust. “Are you drinking again?”  
  
“What?” He said with a laugh, completely taken off guard. “No, no it’s water,” he let her take a whiff to prove his point. The gentle pitter-patter from the rain filling the silence.  
  
“So what are you doing here at this hour?” Lettie turned her head towards him. Phillip was quiet for a moment, looking down at his glass. It was water, yes, but he suddenly wished it _was_ liquor.  
  
“Between you and me, I lost my apartment,” he said, hesitantly. “My parents took it back after the whole theater thing.”  
  
“Wow, so you’re…”  
  
“Homeless? Yeah.” He trusted Lettie enough not to go and tell everyone. Sure Barnum knew, but that was a bit different since the man had found him in his alcohol-induced stupor. He had deserved to know the whole story.  
  
“What are you gonna do?”  
  
“Well,” Phillip said, drinking a little more water before continuing. “I’ll be essentially living in my office for a while,” he looked at Lettie a little sheepish. “Look’s like you guys will be stuck with me.”  
  
“Sound like a better deal than you getting into fights and passing out in bars.” Phillip agreed with a _hmm_ , gently swishing the water in his glass. “Honestly, Carlyle, you need to learn how to take better care of yourself.”  
  
“Funny,” Phillip said with a smile. “Anne said the same thing.”  
  
“She’s a smart woman.”  
  
“That she is,” Phillip’s eyes clouded with sadness, he took a bigger gulp of water.  
  
“You need to be careful, Phillip,” Lettie said with a sigh. The use of his first name caught his attention.  
  
“You sound like my mother.”  
  
“Oh please, I think I care about you more than your own mother does right now,” as soon as she said it, Lettie instantly felt guilty. Phillip was quiet for a moment. There was a _whoosh_ as wind swept through the alleyway, the rain picking up slightly. “I’m sorry, that was-”  
  
“No,” Phillip stopped her quickly. “No, it’s fine. You’re probably right,” he said with a humorless laugh. "I appreciate your bluntness." He was fidgeting with his glass again.  
  
“Go inside, get some sleep,” Lettie finally said, standing up, offering him her hand.    
  
“Not just yet, I want to sit out here for a little longer,” Phillip said, the tone in his voice almost making it sound like a plea. Lettie nodded, dropping her hand to his shoulder instead.  
  
“Don’t catch a cold on us and die Carlyle,” she said the sentence with some humor. Phillip let out a small laugh, nodding. She moved towards the door, opening it before looking over her shoulder. “Stick to water.”  
  
“What?”  
  
“Water. You drink like a fish when you’re nervous,” she motioned to his now empty glass. This earned her a good, honest laugh from him, a rare one.  
  
“Good night, Carlyle.”  
  
“Night Lettie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who read/commented/bookmarked/left a kudos. You guys are the reason I keep going! :)


	5. Chapter 5

He was saying goodnight to the guests with Lettie. It had been a week since the bar-fight and according to the performers his bruises were already starting to look a bit better. Not completely healed, but better. It also turned out that the protesters not showing up was, in fact, just a coincidence. They were currently sitting outside the front, yelling and screaming as usual. It seemed they had come back with a vengeance, Phillip had thought with dread.  
  
Phillip was in the middle of shaking a man’s hand when he heard _her_ laugh. He turned his head and instantly picked her out in the crowd, still proudly wearing her pink wig. It had _also_ been a week since he had talked to Anne. If he was being honest, it was the longest week he ever had to endure. They had seen each other floating around the building from time to time, how could they not? They were both now living under the same roof, however no words were exchanged between the two. It was tense and awkward between them now and it drove him absolutely crazy. Now he was forced to watch her from afar, heart in his throat while she laughed at something a child had told her.  
  
“Phillip Carlyle?” A familiar voice rang out, catching his attention. Phillip looked up, and with a smile caught sight of a man who was pushing towards him. He was wearing an expensive black suit with a vibrant red tie, making him quite distinguishable in the crowd of people.  
  
“Thomas Winthrop,” Phillip let out a stunned laugh, extended a hand which the man took without missing a beat. They both stood there for a moment, smiling and shaking hands, as if not quite believing the two of them were meeting in front of a _circus_.    
  
“You look a sight for sore eyes,” Thomas commented, his smile not yet fading. He was referencing to the fading bruises still marking Phillip’s face. “What happened to you, barraged by peanuts?” The man joked.  
  
“It’s nothing,” Phillip reassured quickly, before turning to Lettie who was standing beside him. “Thomas, this is the _great_ Lettie Lutz.”  
  
“Pleasure Ma’am.” Thomas said, taking her hand and kissing it. “You voice is truly remarkable.”  
  
“Thank you, Sir,” she said with a smile, flattered. She knew this ‘Thomas’ wasn’t being entirely genuine. Had it not been for the show, or seemingly his friend standing beside her, she would have probably just been regarded as disgusting, like she had been not long ago. It was a nice change however, and she could tell this man was more ignorant than hateful. She said goodbye to Thomas before nodding to Phillip, resuming her duties of seeing the guests off.  
  
“So how have you been old friend?” Thomas said, turning back to Phillip.  
  
“Ah well, the circus has rejuvenated me quite a bit, brought back what those _awful_ plays left void,” the two shared a chuckle, reminiscing on _his_ shows. His shows weren’t _awful_ , per say, but they lacked the excitement that Barnum’s show did not.  
  
“Ah yes, this ‘ _circus_.’ Remarkably impressive if I do say so,” Thomas said, staring up at the magnificent building before them, still bustling with guests and performers alike.  
  
“All to the determination of Mr. Barnum.”  
  
“Ah yes Mr. Barnum! I am in true awe of how he _gained_ class from this. Truly impressive,” Thomas said, as if oblivious to his own words. Phillip was going to correct him, to remind the man that while the circus may not be a _play_ , it didn’t mean it was only for the low-class. After all, Thomas was there, wasn’t he?  
  
“Say, I’m having an affair over at mine later tonight. Say you’ll come?” The man said suddenly, a smile opening across his face. “I’d love to catch up with you more, old friend.”  
  
“Didn’t you hear? I’m bottom of the barrel now, cut off from the Carlyle inheritance,” Phillip said, cautious of his words. If the Winthrops were to be seen with him, their reputation may take a fall as well.  
  
“Ah yes, of course I’ve heard about it. Damn near everyone has now.” Phillip would be lying if he said that statement didn’t disappoint him a bit.  
  
“So why want me there?” Phillip asked with a small smirk, it was starting to feel like their schooling days again. The two of them frequently causing havoc on the grounds, not caring what the men in charge thought.  
  
“Phillip,” Thomas sighed, gripping on to the man’s shoulder. “It’s the era of new money, and your parents are stuck in the old.”  
  
“If I recall correctly, your parents are in the same crowd as mine.”  
  
“Yes, suffocating, aren’t they? You see, there’s two people in the world. Those with old money, and those with new money, ready to take on the world.”  
  
“What about circus boys?” Carlyle asked, jokingly.  
  
“What?” Thomas asked, genuinely baffled by what Phillip had said. “Oh uh yes, I suppose the paupers too,” he said, distracted as he continued to stare up at the circus building. Phillip sucked in a breath, suddenly getting a bad feeling about reconnecting with Thomas and the crowd.  
  
“You know Thomas, I’m not entirely sure it’s a good idea for me. I have to be here in the morning for practice and-”  
  
“And you’ll be much more creative after a night of fun,” Thomas interrupted, very intent on seeing Phillip going. “Party is at nine, be there!” Before Phillip could protest, Thomas was gone, enveloped in the crowd.  
  
And that was how Phillip Carlyle was talked into going to a high-class party later that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took a little longer to write! I don't want to worry you guys that I won't finish! I can assure you, I'm in it for the long haul and I hope you are too! See you next chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

Phillip was scrambling around his office in a panicked frenzy when Barnum found him. Phillip had nearly ran into the older man, barely missing the door that shot open in front of him. They currently looked like mirror images of one another, both still wearing their bright red ringmaster coats and top hats.  
  
“Phillip?”  
  
“Barnum! What are you…” Phillip began, still flirting around his office. He frantically checked the time before staring back up at the man.  
  
“Anne and Lettie told me that you ran up here after the show,” P.T. crossed his arms. “They’re worried.”  
  
“I uh-” Phillip danced around the cluttered study, still distracted. The sentiment of Anne being worried about him was lost, Phillip not paying quite enough attention to the conversation to pick that up. “I’m fine Barnum, it’s just the Winthrop’s son was here.”  
  
“Winthrop?” Barnum asked, now thoroughly intrigued. The Winthrops were the _highest_ of the high-society, and while it wasn’t uncommon for different social classes to come to the show, the idea that one of the _Winthrops_ attended was truly baffling. It also made him rather concerned. “What’d he want?”  
  
“He uh, invited me to their party..” Phillip pulled out his silver pocket watch, checking the time again. “Which starts in less than two hours.” Barnum hummed, watching as his apprentice continued to scramble around senselessly as if he were some sort of startled animal. Phillip muttered something under his breath when he looked in the wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. It was there for the sole purpose of storing his red suit, however he figure he was bound to have _something_ else in there, even if it was buried at the bottom.  
  
“What’s wrong?”  
  
“This is all I have,” Phillip said, gesturing to the heavily embellished red suit he was still wearing. He had never went to retrieve his belongings from his apartment, too prideful to ask for permission to be let back into his own home. Even if it now meant he didn’t have any clothes. Tossed on the floor was his soiled tuxedo from the night he went to the theater with Anne, the smell of booze still lofting off of it, he sniffed it and made a disgusted look. He would definitely be throwing out _that_ suit, it smelled awful, not to mention how many bad memories were connected with it.  
  
“I have suits at home that will do the trick,” P.T. said, nonchalantly as he strode to the door, throwing it open. “Come on, I’ll lend you one.”  
  
When they arrived at the Barnum Mansion, P.T. had told the stagecoach that Phillip was to be taken to Windthop Manor once he was ready. P.T. then quickly ascended the stone steps up to his mansion and opened the door, leading Phillip in. He called to his wife that he was home, hearing the three girls in the kitchen giggling as they cooked dinner. There was an excited shriek when his daughters heard him, running out to greet their father. Charity walked out behind them, smiling warmly when she saw her husband.”  
  
“Daddy!”  
  
“Daddy!”  Helen and Caroline cried out in unison. They stopped dead in their tracks when they saw Phillip, quickly forgetting about their father. They ran to the younger man, wrapping their arms around his legs. Phillip had to try his hardest not to burst out laughing, P.T.’s face was the funniest thing he had seen in a long while.  
  
“Phillip!” They screamed, holding on to him tightly. It had been a little over a week since he had last seen the girls, but by their reaction you would think it was months. He said hello to both of them, hugging them back.  
  
“Girls! Girls! You have to let him go, we’re on a very tight schedule! Phillip here is getting ready for a _party_.”  
  
“A party? Can we come?” The girls asked, starting to jump up and down excitedly.  
  
“You girls wouldn’t want to go this party. I don’t think it’s going to be very much fun,” Phillip said honestly, letting out a nervous laugh. He truly was _dreading_ it. Once Charity had pried the girls off Phillip, the two men headed upstairs. It took a couple of different suits, but sure enough, one fit Phillip almost perfectly.

"This was the second suit I ever bought," P.T. had said, rather proudly. When they returned downstairs Charity had caught Phillip before he left. She looked at him hard, inspecting him. Suddenly a frown washed over her face, and before Phillip could ask what was wrong, she was gone.  
  
“Hold on for one moment!”  
  
“Uh, Charity he doesn’t have much time-” Barnum began in protest. He shot a sympathetic glance towards Phillip as the two were forced to wait. She returned quickly, holding various little containers of powders and as well as a brush.  
  
“Your bruises,” she said with a sad smile. Realization washed over Phillip’s face, having almost completely forgotten about the fading bruises peppering his face. He looked over at the mirror on the wall to catch a glimpse of what they looked like while Charity worked quickly to cover them up. She stepped back a moment later, taking in her handiwork. Somehow, she had managed to cover up the marks without making the makeup look obvious on him. He was a bit stunned.  
  
Barnum turned to the grandfather clock behind them, rushing Phillip out the door when he saw the time. A string of thank-yous and goodbyes filled the air as the man departed, the couple watching from the doorway as Phillip stepped into the stagecoach.  
  
“God I hope nothing goes wrong,” Barnum sighed. It was rather ironic, he thought in passing, how him and Charity were worrying about Phillip more than his own parents currently were.  
  
Phillip ended up in front of Winthrop Manor, Charity’s makeup all over his face and wearing Barnum’s suit. He knew he was incredibly late, no one else having been outside except the stagecoaches. He inhaled deeply, ran a nervous hand through his hair one last time before stepping forward as the bellhops opened the main doors. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be a lot of fun to write! Excited for you guys to read it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Longer of a chapter today, hope you enjoy!

Phillip stepped into the grand mansion, taking in how big just the _foyer_ itself was. _New money my ass_ , he had thought as he looked around at the expensive home. There were two sets of stairs spiraling up either side of the lobby that led to a second floor, a few guests chatted as they leaned against its balcony. Phillip smiled for a moment, looking at all the large beams, pillars and rails. Anne would’ve loved swinging around in here. He jammed his hands in his pockets, smile sliding off his face before he walked through the main hallway. He was following the source of soft piano music he was hearing, having no doubt it would lead him to his friend.  
  
“Excuse me Sir,” A man approached him, wearing a black tuxedo. “May I take your coat?”  
  
“What?” Phillip asked, caught off guard before realizing what the man was asking. He seemed generally unimpressed with Phillip’s hesitation, a fraction away from annoyed. “Uh, yes, ‘course,” Phillip said as he quickly pulled off the black overcoat, handing it over to the man. The interaction making him feel slightly awkward. He could hang his coat himself, he does it every night after the shows at the circus, he didn't need someone to do it for him.  
  
He was ushered into the grand ballroom, finding himself swimming in an immensely large crowd of other recognizable rich white men and their women. He nervously tugged at his red tie, straightening it against his white button down. He hated crowds that weren’t singing and cheering, like those at the circus. The conversations here were dull and boring, the air suffocatingly warm.  
  
“Champagne sir?” A servant asked Phillip within moments of him walking in, pulling him out of his thoughts. Phillip looked at the silver tray with the scatter of champagne glasses resting on it. He took one and thanked the man, continuing to walk through the swarm of people. Some noticed him, stepping out of his way as if not wanting to even come in contact with him.   
  
“There he is, Phillip Carlyle!” He heard a distinguished voice over the soft piano and chatter coming from the guests. Phillip was just glad that no one else in the room turned their heads to look at him. He was getting increasingly uncomfortable the longer he was there. He saw Thomas Winthrop push his way through the crowd, a lady in a beautiful dark blue ball gown attached to his arm.   
  
“Thomas, what a magnificent home,” Phillip said, gesturing to the large room with his champagne glass.  
  
“Yes, lovely isn’t it? Of course, Grandfather Winthrop built it. He passed it on to my father when he had died, and soon it will be my turn.” Phillip’s eyebrows narrowed for a moment, as he registered what Thomas was saying. Waiting for his father to die so he could inherit the mansion. Phillip took a sip of champagne to hide his confusion.  
  
“Phillip! I want to introduce you to someone, meet Sarah Marie,” Thomas said with a smile, using both hands to gracefully present the woman in the blue dress beside him.  
  
“We’ve met, actually,” Phillip said with a small laugh kissing her hand, surprised to see the woman. He hadn’t realized from afar but now he instantly recognized her.  
  
“Oh Phillip, how you’ve grown,” she said with a wink, taking her hand back. Phillip chuckled lightly.  
  
“You’re a friend to the heiress of the _Bell_ family?” Thomas asked with a stunned laugh. “Old Friend!” He said, suddenly very impressed as he clapped Phillip on the shoulder.   
  
“It was so long ago now, we’re practically str-” Phillip was beginning to shake his head and correct Thomas when Sarah Marie interrupted him.  
  
“We dated.” Thomas gave an interested hum, encouraging the two to share.  
  
“It was just a family party,” Phillip said dismissively, remembering it all too well. It wasn’t a choice really, his parents made it very clear that he had to invite her. “No need to play it up, it wasn’t anything special.”  
  
“Oh, everything is special when you are twelve, Mr. Carlyle,” she said with a smile, biting her bottom lip. He hid his face behind his champagne glass as he took another sip. “Oh! I must go, we will talk later Phill!” She said with a smile as a flock of giggling girls in fluffy dresses came by and swept her up, the group all scurrying off together. Thomas and Phillip watched her leave, both left stunned for extremely different reasons. Phillip emptied his champagne glass with one steady gulp, rubbing the back of his neck, uncomfortable.  
  
“Isn’t she magnificent?” Thomas asked, still in awe after the woman had long since left.  
  
“Yeah, she’s uh, something alright,” Phillip said, tugging at the collar of his button-down, suddenly feeling extremely hot. He set his empty glass down on one of the servant’s trays as they passed him. Before he knew it, he had another glass pushed into his hand. If Sarah Marie was any indicator of how the night was going to go, he’d need something _much_ stronger than champagne.  
  
“Oh come on Phillip, I bet if you asked she would jump into your bed _tonight!_ ”  
  
“Yeah, well, I’m not interested in anything like that right now,” Phillip said, taking a sip from his new glass in hopes to ease himself up.  
  
“Oh come on, ' _Phill,'_ ” Thomas said, teasing him in a mock girl voice. “I wouldn’t be too picky if I were you, you are currently, as you worded it ‘bottom of the barrel.’” Thomas scoffed at the words, as if not quite believing he was quoting _Phillip_. “My, hanging out with those circus clowns really has changed you. Good Lord.”  
  
“You really think so?” Phillip asked, genuinely curious. He hadn’t really noticed that much of a drastic change. Sure he was happier, but was it really that noticeable to everyone else?   
  
Thomas opened his mouth to say something when the large grandfather clock struck midnight. Thomas smiled widely at Phillip and the action alone made him instantly worried. Thomas rushed over to the bar alcove that was tucked away in the corner across from the piano. The player had stopped, as if on cue, as Thomas Winthrop climbed onto the counter. He took his champagne glass and tapped on it with a piece of silverware gently, waiting for the crowd to quiet down.  
  
“Ladies, Gentleman. Thank you for coming out tonight, truly. I am so blessed to have this many friends in my company,” Thomas began with a smile. “We are in for quite the treat tonight, for our guest of honor, Mr. Phillip Carlyle, has arrived.” There were shocked murmurs at his name and Phillip stumbled backwards a step, not wanting to be in the spotlight. He felt himself begin to sink backwards, trying to find a corner he could cram himself into, finding a place beside a servant in the back. “The papers want to believe that the circus is a thing for the uncivilized paupers, but I beg to differ,” Thomas continued, his audience now listening, curious and interested.  
  
“I think such a business could be turned into a very high end thing, Old Friend,” Thomas said, gesturing towards Phillip with his glass. “ _I_ would certainly pay for a private show of those freaks. They are so repulsive it is almost fascinating, don’t you all agree?” The room filled with murmurs and nods of agreement.  
  
 The idea made Phillip nauseous, he wasn’t about to subject any of the performers to the similar treatment they received at the Queen’s palace.  They had been treated like lawn ornaments in England, there to be gawked at from afar. They had not been admired and respected like they deserved to have been. He drank the rest of his champagne before grabbing another off the servant’s tray beside him.  
  
“To Phillip Carlyle, may we watch a great success unfold from the most unusual business,” Thomas said, raising his glass, the rest of the room following suit as they cheered his name before drinking their champagne. Phillip took a sip of his own to mask his discomfort at the situation, and before he knew it he had swarms of people talking to him about business deals.  
  
“Mr. Carlyle, my family would be very interested in a performance at our estate.”

  
“How much would it cost for a night?”

  
“Is there a package for just _white_ performers?”   
  
It took a while before Phillip was able to pull himself away from the chaos, trying to find somewhere he could just be alone. He eventually found a way to the outside balcony and stepped outside. It was a quiet, warm, August night, and it was instantly curing the headache Phillip was starting to develop. He sighed, leaning against the wooden railing, shutting his eyes as he took another small drink. He knew coming here was a bad idea, he just couldn't pinpoint _why_. He heard the door open behind him and he turned slightly to see Sarah Marie walking towards him. Relief flooded through him that it wasn’t someone else looking to hire the performers as if they were animals.  
  
“Phillip,” she said with a warm smile. “Quite the commotion is going on downstairs.”  
  
“Hmm, I’ll bet,” Phillip sighed, staring out at the stagecoaches lined up in the front. They were all patiently awaiting for their patrons’ return. He could see the Barnum’s carriage waiting for Phillip. He wanted nothing more than to run to the coach and take off. Return to the circus, his office, where it was calm and comfortable.  
  
“I didn’t realize you were so involved in the, uh, performing arts practice,” Sarah Marie said as she struggled for the proper words.  
  
“It makes me happy,” he said simply, looking at his mostly full glass, frowning at it.   
  
“Well that’s more than the rest of us can say,” she said with another smile. He raised an eyebrow and turned to look at her. “Anyway, I was just coming out to say farewell, for now.”  
  
“Ah of course, it’s rather late isn’t it? Good-night Ms. Bell.”  
  
“I do hope to see you again soon, Phill,” she said, standing up on her toes to kiss his cheek. He stiffened at her touching him almost instantly. She looked at him, confused for a moment before stepping back. They whispered one last good-night and then she was gone.  
  
He left soon after that, not interested in being at the party any longer. He was anxiously fidgeting with the cuffs on his tuxedo as they rode away from Winthrop Manor. He felt sick, overwhelmed by everything that had happened in such a short amount of time. He leaned his head against the carriage door all the way back to the circus building. He thanked the driver before making his way into the building. Everyone was asleep when he entered, even Lettie, so he made sure to move quietly as to not wake anyone.  
  
He sighed as he entered his dark office, removing his coat and placing it on the coat tree by the door.  
  
“How was the party?” A voice startled him, making him jump. He looked up, surprised to see Anne standing in the corner of his office.  
  
“Anne, what are you-”   
  
“I figured it would be best to wait up for you. The last time you were out late you came back with bruises,” she said, flicking his desk light on, poorly lighting the room. What she hadn’t told him was that she had _tried_ to go to sleep, but just couldn’t knowing he was still out at his party. He was beaten up last time, he could have been dead in a ditch this time. “Plus I wanted to hear how your supposed party from hell went.”   
  
“I uh, reconnected with some old friends.” Phillip said as he sat down in his chair. Are Thomas and Sarah really his friends? Phillip wasn’t entirely convinced of that yet.  
  
“That’s good.”  
  
“Yeah I guess,” he said, noticeably unsure. Anne simply nodded, seeming to accept his answer. She turned toward the door, getting ready to leave when Phillip looked up at her, unable to hold back any longer. “Anne, will you be honest with me?” His trembling voice catching her off guard. She turned back to look at him.  
  
“Yeah,” she said, trying not to sound as reluctant as she felt, now standing in front of him.  
  
“Did you ever have feelings for me?” And just like that the breath she was holding had been sucked out of her. His blue eyes were holding back tears as he stared up at her.   
  
“That’s the champagne talking. You’re emotional, go to sleep,” she finally said after a moment, not sure what to say.  
  
“I’m not drunk,” he promised. “Just dulled down enough to not be afraid of your answer anymore.” _Anymore_ , that hit her hard.  
  
“Go to sleep,” she said again, more firmly this time. She stepped around his desk to run her fingers through his sloppy hair. He seemed incredibly tired, both physically and emotionally. She had just hoped he would forget about this conversation in the morning. “Goodnight, Phillip,” she said before clicking off his light and leaving his office. He fell asleep almost instantly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phillip is having a rough time, isn't he?


	8. Chapter 8

The show had just let out, Phillip and the performers watching as the last groups of people drained out of the building. They didn’t go outside and say goodnight to the crowd like they normally would have done, all of them too exhausted. It had been an emotionally taxing couple of days for everyone involved at the circus. The protesters were starting to seriously drive away families and the police were being fairly unhelpful on the matter. They had told Phillip that until the men did more than just ‘peacefully’ protest, they could not make any arrests, as protesting was a constitutional right. It felt like a cloud hovering over Phillip, it was a waiting game, it being only a matter of time before something happened.  
  
They all started to walk back to the curtain when Tom brought up the idea of playing a card game, perking everyone up. It had been a passion amongst them as of late.  
  
“I’ll take on the big guy,” Tom said, referencing W.D.  
  
“Look, all I’m saying is that I’ve been winning my games,” W.D. shrugged, flashing a smile as him and Tom began to banter back and forth.  
  
“ _Lately,_ ” Tom corrected, “you’ve been winning games, _lately_. You still don’t stand a chance against the _Champion_.” Tom had gestured to himself, making everyone chuckle. Phillip remained quiet, however, walking sluggishly behind everyone. He was lost in his thoughts, the same men that beat him up were able to sit outside the circus like vultures. It left him feeling constantly on edge, every once and a while he would catch them watching him through the windows. It made his skin crawl. Anne didn’t seem to notice Phillip falling behind, having joined in with the rest of the performers as they began to verbally place bets between W.D. and Tom.  
  
“Phill!” A voice from behind him called out. He turned around upon hearing her call him, and there stood Sarah Marie. The rest of the performers were suddenly quiet, having turned around to stare at the stranger. The woman was descending down the steps of the now empty auditorium, wearing a fancy dress. It was vibrant orange.  
  
“Sarah,” Phillip inhaled as he let out a small, nervous laugh. “What are you doing here?”  
  
“I wanted to come see your work!” She said, as if it were obvious. Phillip glanced over his shoulder to see his friends looking at him with a frown. He suddenly felt red hot under the spotlights still shining down on the ring.  
  
“Did you… enjoy yourself?” He asked, not entirely sure what to say.  
  
“Oh it was lovely!”  
  
“That’s great, I’m glad you liked it,” Phillip said with a forced smile.   
  
“You know, Father is very interested in investing in this business of yours.”  
  
“Mr. Bell?” Phillip said, his attention suddenly caught. Barnum’s circus was doing well enough that they didn’t _need_ more money, but it certainly wouldn’t hurt. Extra money would mean that the performers would start getting better wages, and it would convince Barnum that they didn’t need _Jenny Lind_ to get the papers to approve of them. A backing by Mr. Bell would be a huge deal.  
  
“Yes silly, who else? We can discuss it over dinner.” He heard the curtain behind him rustle, and he turned around to see the performers leaving. His eyes caught onto Anne’s as she lingered for just a moment before letting the curtain fall behind her. He licked his lips, he wanted to follow her. “Go get ready,” Sarah said.   
  
“Wh-?” He forgot of her presence for a moment. “Okay, it’ll just take two seconds.”  
  
He was then in his office, throwing on the white button down he had worn a few days ago. He barely had it over his shoulders when Lettie busted in without warning.  
  
“She your girlfriend?” The bearded woman asked, placing her hands on her hips.   
  
“Jesus, Lettie-” Phillip cried, mortified as he scrambled to cover up his torso.   
  
“Phillip,” Lettie said sharper this time, not phased by his half dressed appearance. She was convinced it must have been how he was raised, he shirt wasn’t fully buttoned, it wasn’t like he was naked.  
  
“No,” he said, firmly. “She’s just an old friend,” he finished buttoning his shirt. He opted to go without the tie this time, not wanting it to be obvious that he was wearing the exact same suit that he wore a few days ago. “I’ll be back in a few hours,” he promised, brushing passed her. He had left in such a hurry, that he had forgotten to say goodbye to anyone. He disappeared out the main door with Sarah, the performers watching him leave. They were now crowded around a round, wooden table. They were all quiet for a moment, everyone sneaking a glance at Anne, expecting to see a reaction.  
  
“What?” She said, temper unusually short. She hated how different everyone treated her whenever Phillip did something without her. The table remained quiet, Tom busying himself by dealing cards. “We aren’t together, he can sleep with whoever he damn well pleases,” she said.  
  
“You sure about that?” Tom said, not quite believing her. None of them did, not even Anne herself.  
  



	9. Chapter 9

Anne angrily swung from her trapeze bar in a desperate attempt to forget him. She hadn’t changed out of her show costume, far too lost in her own thoughts after he had left. She didn’t want to think about Phillip Carlyle and his new lover, she didn’t want to think about how it made her feel. So she did what she always does, she ran from her problems, twisting and twirling with her ropes until her worries became distant and faint.  
  
She hooked her legs over the bar and allowed herself to dangle upside down, swinging with great momentum. She swung forwards before letting herself fall back, like a pendulum. She looked up as she swung towards her platform and suddenly she was back to that night, to when she had first met him. He had been standing on her balcony, looking at her like no one ever ever had before, especially a white man. His gaze complete awe as she had swung up to see his face. Anne’s heart stopped for a moment as she almost slipped off her bar, so caught up in her daydreaming it nearly causing her to fall. Her bar slowly stopped swinging and she let out a sigh of relief, relaxing as she let herself dangle there for a moment. She hadn’t such a close call since she was a little girl who dangled from tree branches in the woods.  
  
“Anne?” She looked down to see a very concerned Charity staring up at her. She hadn’t known that Charity had been here that night, Mr.Barnum had left for Maryland that morning. He was preparing for another one of Jenny Lind’s concerts, having reassured them he would be back within the week. Anne had assumed Charity wouldn’t come to the circus without her husband, apparently she was wrong. “What are you still doing up there? Everyone else is backstage playing cards.”  
  
“I’m not really in the mood for playing cards, Mrs. Barnum.”  
  
“I heard about Phillip,” Charity said, concerned. “Why don’t you come down? Have dinner with me and the girls tonight,” she offered.  
  
“Oh, I,” Anne struggled for words. “I don’t want to impose.”  
  
“Anne,” Charity said with a sigh, “we’d love for you to be there.” Anne slowly nodded, reaching for her rope and lowering herself down to the ground.  
  
Before Anne could even say anything, she heard a terrified squeak from Charity’s two girls, followed by a roar coming from the other side of the curtain. All at once, Helen and Caroline ran out from behind the satin, screaming and laughing as Walter came dashing after them, his hair flying around wildly. He swept up the girls into his arms and pretended to devour them, the girls still giggling even after he released them.  
  
“Why do they call you Dog Boy? You’re much cooler than that!” Helen said with a smile, touching the hair that was profusely growing from his face.  
  
“Like a lion!” Caroline chipped in.  
  
“Lion Man!” Helen said with a nod.  
  
“Oh, I like that!” Walter laughed, he looked up then, suddenly very aware of their company. He stood up in front of Anne and Charity with an embarrassed smile. “I think you’re mother is waiting for you two,” he said. “Mrs. Barnum, Anne,” he nodded in farewell before turning back to Helen and Caroline. “M’ladies,” he said, kissing their hands, making them both giggle before he ran back behind the curtain. That was when the two girls saw Anne, and suddenly they were clinging to her torso, hugging her tightly. The trapeze artist was unable to hold back a smile, the girls had an infectious happiness.  
  
“Walter is really fun! Don’t you think, Anne?”  
  
“He is a lot of fun,” She laughed.  
  
“Alright you guys, come on, let’s get to the carriage,” Charity said, calling to her daughters.  
  
“Are you coming home with us Anne?” Helen suddenly gasped. Anne looked conflicted once more before feeling the two girls cling tighter to her. She gave in.  
  
“Yeah, just let change and tell my brother. Don’t want him worrying about me.”  
  
“Of course, we’ll wait for you outside. Come on girls,” Charity said, leading her children outside. Anne hurried out after them a few minutes later, now wearing a casual dress instead of her flashy show leotard. The entire ride to the Barnum estate consisted of the girls asking Anne various questions, Charity giving the younger woman an apologetic look. Anne didn’t mind, she loved the girls’ enthusiasm. She answered all the questions without missing a beat.  
  
“Have you ever gotten hurt?”  
  
“Only once.”  
  
“Do you ever get scared being up so high?”  
  
“Nope, I love it.”  
  
“Can you teach us how to do what you do?” Helen asked, Charity playfully shushing her daughter. Anne let out a little laugh and told them ‘maybe one day, when they were older.’  
  
The carriage slowed to a stop in front of the Barnums’ home, the girls taking off instantly. Charity and Anne smiled as they watched the two girls run inside. It wasn’t the first time she had visited the Barnums, but she had never been over for such an informal thing. There was a few times when the circus first started up where all the performers came over with Barnum and ate dinner while discussing plans for the circus. Those times had since passed, however.  
  
“What do you want me to do?” Anne asked as she followed Charity into the kitchen. “I can help.”  
  
“Oh shush Anne, you’re my guest,” Charity said with a smile as she started boiling water. “I do want to hear about this Phillip business, however.” Charity said, popping a piece of carrot into her mouth.  
  
“Not much to tell,” Anne said, trying her best to be nonchalant. She took a slice of carrot Charity was offering her.  
  
“You don’t mind him dating someone?”  
  
“It’s better for him this way,” Anne said, still firm in her belief.  
  
“You sure about that?” Charity tilted her head, unconvinced.  
  
“Of course, if we were together he would constantly be harassed and in danger. He deserves more than that.”  
  
“Anne,” Charity let out a pained sigh. “Love is always dangerous. If I wanted the easy way I wouldn’t have married Phineas. I’ve never been happier, I have a beautiful family and I wouldn't trade that for the world.”

"Charity, he already lost his inheritance being associated with me," Anne's voice broke. If she was being honest, she felt _awful_ knowing that Phillip's parents cut him off because of _her_.

"You should stop pushing him away, Anne. Clearly the boy likes you, just some motherly advice," Charity said with a smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apparently Dog Boy's name is Walter, so that's cool. Here's to Walter.
> 
> If you guys have any ideas/prompts for the story, leave them in the comments! This community has so many great ideas and I'd love to incorporate some!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day?! (It's me making up for missing a chapter yesterday, haha)
> 
> Love you guys!

“Mr. Bell.”  
  
“Carlyle.”  
  
The two elder men glared at each other as they took their seats at the small table that was tucked away in the corner of a high-end restaurant. It was reserved for them strictly, only used on rare occasions. Away from the public eye, waiters were ordered to deal with the two men as fast as possible, and to ask no questions. Everything was kept off the books when dealing with the two most powerful men in New York City.  
  
“It has come to my attention that our children have been seeing each other,” Mr. Bell started, sliding a glass of whiskey across the table to Mr. Carlyle. “I know you like your booze,” he said with a knowing smile, folding his hands on the table as he awaited Mr. Carlyle’s response.  
  
“I’ve been hearing the same thing,” Carlyle said, leaning back in his chair, fingers tapping on the table. “Quite strange, isn’t it?” His voice full of suspicion and doubt.  
  
“John,” Mr. Bell said with a chuckle, lighting a cigar. “If you think I had anything to do with their meeting, then you are very wrong,” he said, deadly serious as he leaned forward, staring at the man opposite of him. “Trust me, I didn’t want my daughter _anywhere_ near your son.”  
  
“You invested in the Barnum circus,” Carlyle said, raising an eyebrow. “I’m not foolish enough to believe _that’s_ just a coincidence.” He knew Bell was pulling something, he always was. It was like dancing with a viper.  
  
“No, that’s just business. Something _you_ should start dabbling in.”  
  
“Phillip is my own son and even I wouldn’t dare to support such a provocative business.”  
  
“You’re also the same man who ordered your son to be beaten in a bar,” Bell said with a menacing smile, puffing out a cloud of smoke. “Truly ruthless, Carlyle,” his voice dripping with twisted respect.  
  
“It was tough love,” John spat, he didn’t enjoy it by any means but it was necessary. “He needed to learn his lesson.”  
  
“Ah yes, for being with that _black circus freak_.” Mr. Bell’s voice was suddenly dripping with venom. He took a deep breath and waited for a moment, taking a huff of his cigar. “You know Carlyle,” he said, suddenly very calm, it was unsettling. “You should consider you and your son lucky. Had it not been for Sarah-Marie’s deep love for your boy, I would have had every one of his fingers broken and his tongue sent in a box to your doorstep.”  
  
“Phillip was never romantically involved with that circus woman,” Mr. Carlyle growled, emptying his glass with one fluid gulp. Slamming it down on the table, a waiter hurrying out. He filled the glass back up before bowing out quickly, leaving the two men alone once more.  
  
“However intimate they got, Phillip still desired her,” Mr. Bell said, leaning back in his chair, cigar burning in between his fingers.  
  
“Then I suppose we should both be thankful of our children’s love for one another, don’t you agree, _Abraham_?”  
  
“What we should both agree on,” the man gruffly said, extinguishing his cigar on the wooden table without even blinking. “Is that we should marry the two of them off as soon as possible, to prevent any violent escalations between our parties.”  
  
“And how would the union impact our,” John cleared his throat, trying to find the right word. “ _Clients_.”  
  
“What do you propose?”  
  
“Peace.”  
  
Abraham let out a hearty laugh, as if John Carlyle had told him the funniest joke he had ever heard. “Peace,” he repeated a few moments later, still chuckling. “Johnny,” Abraham lit another cigar, smile falling off his face. “There will never be peace between our two sides. However, a business partnership is entirely possible.”  
  
“Care to elaborate?”  
  
“Like a bee pollinating a flower. Cutters start dealing in the north side.”  
  
“What’s in it for us?”  
  
“The police on my side of town turn a blind eye on you and your bunch.” That seemed to be more than enough for John Carlyle, the man lifting his glass in a toast to Abraham, taking another shot. “But do not mistake me, John. Sarah and Phillip may have gotten along when they were children, but this is not a child’s game anymore.” They both had far too much on the line to have their families meddling in the public eye this way. This marriage _had_ to work.  
  
“Then let us both make sure this union succeeds.”  
  
“I can drink to that,” Abraham said with a smile, lifting his own shot glass.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's getting dramatic up in here!


	11. Chapter 11

They were all backstage, waiting as the building filled with eager guests. Phillip had walked to the side of the curtain to speak to someone, the conversation clearly something important. His body was blocking the person from Anne’s view, something she couldn’t determine as deliberate or not. She heard his voice raise an octave, his hand reaching for the flask he had recently started using again. He let the curtain go, the conversation over. He took a swig from his flask before setting it down by a barrel, trying to be discrete. He had started showing up to practices with the smell of liquor tainting his breath. He wasn’t drunk, per say, put it was definitely enough to numb some senses.  
  
Anne watched him drink from his flask, her heart plummeting. She had to look away. She was the only one that noticed he was starting to drink again. She had slowly learned the stages of Phillip’s drinking and what they meant. This was his way of coping, not being completely drunk yet not being far from it.  
  
Anne was sitting on an apple box, anxiously bouncing her knee. She was doing a new stunt tonight, and she was particularly nervous about it this time. She was suppose to jump from her bar and free fall, depending on the other performers below to catch her. Phillip frowned, catching sight of her. Sensing her unease, he walked up to her and rested a comforting hand on her knee.  
  
“What’s wrong?” He asked, eyes sparkling with concern.  
  
“Everything okay?” She asked, avoiding his question with one of her own.  
  
“Fine,” he said, adjusting the cufflinks on his ringmaster suit, something he did when he was nervous. “So what’s worrying you?”  
  
“Phillip, I don’t know if I can do this stunt, I-” she began, Phillip cutting her off quickly. He knew Anne he had to stop Anne’s train of thought there. She has a habit of getting in her own head, once that happens she shuts down.  
  
“Anne, you’re the best trapeze artist in New York, hell probably the best on this entire continent,” she had blushed at that. “You’ve got this, you’ve done riskier stuff.”  
  
“It’s not about the jump. All my life it’s been _me_ , me and W.D. versus the world. I’ve never done anything where I just blindly fall.”  
  
“They’ll catch you,” he said, trying his best to reassure her. It wasn’t working too well. “You’ll have Walter, Constantine, the albino twins, they’ll be there.” She still looked rather unconvinced. Phillip thought hard for a moment, chewing on his bottom lip.  
  
“I could be there. You’d trust me to catch you, wouldn’t you?” He finally said, looking up at her. She reluctantly nodded. “Then I’ll be there.”  
  
“SHOW TIME!” Lettie belted out, her excitement radiating off her. The performers all stood up and got into place behind the curtains, ready to run out in unison. Phillip helped Anne to her feet before getting shouldered out of the way by W.D., the man still not trusting Phillip. W.D.'s intentions were clear. _Stay away from my sister._  
  
They all jumped out into the ring together, the audience’s cheers deafening. Phillip stayed for the opening routine before ducking off to the side, the show seamlessly transitioning to Tom’s segment, the little general riding out on his horse. Phillip smiled, crossing his arms over his chest, as he stood by the audience’s seats. He suddenly felt someone tap his shoulder and he turned around to see Sarah-Marie Bell.  
  
“Sarah? Look, I already said backstage that I do not want to go see my father-”  
  
“No, no, it’s not that,” she said, quickly reassuring him. “I was hoping we could attend the Jenny Lind performance,” she said with a smile. He could barely make out her sentence over the audience as Tom rode off stage. The trapeze act would be soon.  
  
“Jenny Lind? That’s tonight,” he said, distracted as he watched Prince Constantine and Walter begin to jump over some dancers.  
  
“It’s in twenty minutes, yes.”  
  
“What?” Phillip turned around, stunned that she was asking this. “I can’t make that.”  
  
“Why not?” Walter ran off the stage, Constantine chasing him.  
  
“Because I’m in the middle of a show?” He said, not believing what he was hearing. His hand reached for his flask, mentally chastising himself. _Of course he didn’t have it with his ringmaster suit_. It wasn’t professional in the slightest.  
  
“You do a show every night, when will _we_ get a night?” Sarah persisted.  
  
“Sarah, can we not do this right now?” Phillip snapped, nearly missing his cue. Suddenly Anne appeared on her balcony, the lights in the stadium dimming until it was complete darkness. The spot-light switched on, now shining brightly on her. Phillip didn’t even look back at Sarah as he disappeared into the dark. He grouped up with Walter and Constantine, the albinos quickly joining them. Anne leaped onto her bar, grabbing it gracefully. Phillip held his breath, watching her soar around the stadium. She swung upwards and, for the first time since catholic school, he prayed.  
  
She let go of her bar, crossing her arms over herself as she plummeted to the ground. The audience gasped, the lights not yet showing the performers below ready to catch her. She disappeared into the darkness and there was a dramatic moment before the stadium lit up again. Anne now standing beside the performers who had created a human net. The show drew to a close as they all began to perform the final act, singing and dancing along until the music stopped and they were out of breath. Anne was still standing beside Phillip, the audience beginning to leave the building.  
  
“See? Not so bad. Like a trust fall,” Phillip said with a smile, still out of breath from the dancing.  
  
“Not so bad? Let’s see you do it circus boy,” Anne said with a smirk, grabbing the red fabric of his suit for emphasis. Phillip was just about to banter back with her when he saw Sarah running towards him. He felt Anne instantly retract from him, releasing him as she stepped away. Part of him wanted to grab her and pull her back, but he didn’t.  
  
“Phillip! Come on! We’ll only be a few minutes late if we hurry,” Sarah said as she leaned up to give him a kiss on the lips. As soon as he felt her lips touch his, he froze. Slowly, he brought his hands up to her shoulders, gently pushing her away.  
  
“Phill? What’s wrong?”  
  
“Sarah, I told you. I’m not gonna be able to make the show. Go without me if you want to go so bad,” It wasn’t like they paid for the tickets, Barnum always had a small number set aside for the performers in case they wanted to go.  
  
“I thought we were going on a date tonight?” Sarah asked, now confused.  
  
“Date? I thought the deal was final with your father,” Phillip said, missing the point.  
  
“It is? Which means we can stop acting so professional and go on a date.”  
  
“What? You mean like a _real_ date?”  
  
“Yes, silly.” Sarah said, trying not to sound hurt. “That’s what people do when they’re in _love_.” The stadium was now dead quiet.  
  
“Lo- Sarah, I don’t-,” Phillip was trying to figure out what was happening, confused and speechless. “You thought this was-?”  
  
“Wait, you didn’t?”  
  
“I-”  
  
“How did you not feel anything?” She took a step back, realization washing over her face. “Oh my god, your still in love with that _black circus clown_ ,” she said, stunned.  
  
“Don’t you dare say anything about her-” Phillip suddenly shouted, losing his temper. She cut him off with a slap that resonated throughout the building. The two of them looked at each other, speechless before Sarah spun on her heels and ran out crying.  
  
Phillip slowly turned around, grateful the performers had left to give them some privacy. He grabbed his flask off the side of the stage and threw the curtain back. He knew they had all been sitting on the other side, listening.  
  
“Phillip-” Lettie called out to him, reaching for his arm as he brushed passed her. He was heading to his office, he needed a drink.  
  
“I’m fine, just give me a minute.” So she let him go. All the oddities were quiet as they watched him walk up his steps and into his office, his door shutting with a click.  
  
Some time later Phillip heard a soft knock. He glanced up to see Anne stepping in with her head down. He was trying to button the old, worn shirt, he was now wearing, having packed his red show suit away. He didn’t dare to look at her face.  
  
“Is what Lettie said true?” She was the only one that hadn’t listened to Sarah and Phillip’s argument. She had opted to sit in the quiet of the alleyway.  
  
His fingers were starting to tremble, slipping off the buttons. He let out a frustrated sigh, bracing himself against his desk, forgetting about his half buttoned shirt. He was reaching for his flask, only to remember that it was empty. He had drank it all.  
  
“I- I don’t know what she’s telling people,” he said weakly. Suddenly she was beside him and he couldn’t breath, like an asthmatic struggling for air. The scent of her and her shampoo lofted over him. She was now gently touching his still stinging cheek, inspecting the aggravated skin.  
  
“She said Sarah hit you,” she said with a small growl, holding back as much anger as she possibly could. He still carefully avoided her face. “I thought you loved her,” she said. That made him laugh, a painful, sad laugh. He looked at her then, tears in his eyes.  
  
“Why’d _you_ think that?”  
  
“Every time I saw her with you she seemed to take your breath away, Phillip-”  
  
“Take my breath away? Anne,” he shook his head. “ _You’re_ the one that takes my breath away. I can’t breathe without you,” he reached for his empty flask again, pulling it closer. “ _This_ is how I’ve been trying to breathe.”  
  
“Phillip, we can’t,” she sighed. Phillip had thought that must be her favorite line.  
  
“Don’t say that,” he breathed out in a plea, his forehead now resting against hers.  
  
“What will everyone else think?”  
  
“It doesn’t matter, Anne,” he pulled his head away from hers slightly, brushing her curls out of her face. “I’m drowning.” She pulled him into a hug then, shushing him as she rocked him back and forth.


	12. Chapter 12

Barnum had showed up to the circus early that morning, deciding that the performers wouldn’t have practice. Instead, he decided he was going to make them breakfast, which would be a nice treat for everyone. He walked through the front door, his two daughters in tow as they all carried sacks of flour into the building. They brushed passed the curtain and made their way to an old cast-iron stove that had been forgotten about in the corner. The performers were already waking up when the Barnums strode in, Helen and Caroline beaming brightly at Lettie and Anne who were brushing their hair.  
  
“Good morning, girls!” Lettie said warmly, Anne looking over at them with a smile. “What are you guys doing here?”  
  
“Daddy’s making pancakes!” Caroline smiled over her shoulder as they continued to follow their father. They set the bags of flour down by his feet before running full speed passed Lettie.  
  
“Where are you going now?”  
  
“We have to get the rest of the stuff!” Helen said, prompting Caroline to correct her.  
  
“ _Ingredients_.” It was a new word she had recently learned.  
  
“I’ll help,” Lettie offered, standing up to follow them. Anne joining her as they walked after the two girls who were running to the carriage outside.  
  
“So,” Lettie said, turning towards Anne as soon as the girls were out of earshot. “What happened last night with you and Phillip?”  
  
“Nothing,”  Anne honestly said. “I was worried about him,” she confessed with a shrug. “After you said _she_ hit him, the idea of him being all alone just rubbed me the wrong way.”  
  
“And?”  
  
“We talked for a little and then he passed out, so I left.”  
  
“So you two didn’t…?” Lettie’s eyebrows moved up and down.  
  
“What?” Anne asked, confused as she tilted her head.  
  
“Sleep together?” Lettie said, as if it was obvious.  
  
“Oh,” Anne let out a laugh, caught off guard by the question. “No, Lettie. God no,” she shook her head, the two women chuckling to each other. They followed Helen and Caroline outside to the carriage as the sisters began to grab the rest of the ingredients. They handed the two women the containers of butter and as well as the few dozen eggs they had brought. When everyone’s arms were full, they headed back inside.  
  
It turned out P.T. was a really good cook, which was a surprise to everyone. They were all sitting in a circle backstage, plates full of pancakes.  
  
“Wow, Mr. Barnum I’m impressed,” Anne said teasingly, gesturing to plate.  
  
“What-” P.T. tried to sound offended. “Ms. Wheeler, why did you think I _couldn’t_ cook?”  
  
“Mommy always cooks!” Helen laughed around a mouthful of pancakes, P.T. sighing in mock defeat. A few of the other performers jumped in on teasing Barnum, laughter filling the air. Anne was now pushing her pancakes around with her fork, lost in thought. She suddenly turned to her brother who was sitting beside her.  
  
“I’m gonna go upstairs, check on Phillip.”  
  
“Anne,” W.D. said, frustration lacing his voice.  
  
“I know how you feel about him, but…” she didn’t know how to finish that sentence. She didn’t need to, W.D. was pretty sure he knew the rest. He looked at her for a long moment before sighing in defeat.  
  
“Tell him to come down and join us, I’d be good for him,” he said, grudgingly. Anne smiled, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before getting up and walking toward his stairs. P.T. watched her go, smiling to himself.  
  
“So Barnum,” Tom said, getting the man’s attention. “What do _we_ need to do, to get _you_ to do this again tomorrow?” The group began to laugh again. Barnum, who was thinking of all the hard work that went into it,  looking rather dismayed at the idea.  
  
Anne knocked on his door softly, and upon not hearing a response she quietly entered. He was still asleep where she left him, head on his desk with his arms splayed out. She smiled softly to herself as she tiptoed over to his side. She reached up, running her fingers through his hair in an attempt to try and gently wake him. It turns Phillip Carlyle is a very heavy sleeper.  
  
“Hey,” she whispered, jostling him a little.  
  
“Wh-” he startled awake, looking up at Anne alarmed. Slowly, realization washed over his face and his eyes softened. “Hey,” he said quietly, smiling up at her.  
  
“Mr. Barnum’s here, he made pancakes for everyone. You should come downstairs and eat with us,” she took a small step away from him, smiling back at him.  
  
“Wait. This first,” he said, looking into her amber eyes. “Last night,” he began, both of them swallowing hard. He half expected her to say something, but when she didn’t, he continued. “I mean, we were both exhausted…”  
  
“ _I_ was fine. _You_ , however, were an emotional wreck,” she said, voice light with humor. He cracked a small smile.  
  
“Was not.”  
  
“Come on, come downstairs. We can talk about it later.” He still seemed a little hesitant of the offer. “ _My brother_ asked you to come downstairs.”  
  
“Wow. W.D.?” He said, a little stunned, Anne nodding in response. “Guess he’s changing his mind about me?”  
  
“Hold on,” she said, smiling harder. “It was all me.”  
  
They walked down the narrow stairs together, Anne right in front of him. Everyone turned around to look at Phillip, greeting him rather warmly.  
  
“Carlyle!”  
  
“Hey, Phillip.”

The young man smiled, greeting them all with various “hey’s” and “hello’s.” W.D. opted for just a nod, to which Phillip returned. Anne had returned to W.D.’s side while Phillip grabbed a plate of pancakes, sitting down beside Barnum, Helen and Caroline.  
  
“Phillip!” The two girls both squeaked in unison, throwing themselves on him.  
  
“How’s my girls,” he said affectionately, giving them both a hug.


	13. Chapter 13

Phillip was watching Anne with a smile, the woman talking to a very excited Helen and Caroline. She looked up and caught him staring at her and, for just a moment, it was like there was just the two of them in the room. Anne flashed him a small smile in return before being pulled away by Helen and Caroline. The young girls eager to see the circus animals.   
  
Phillip heard someone approach him and out of his peripherals he saw P.T. Barnum. Phillip looked over to the man who was simply smiling at Anne with his children. The two girls were skipping and giggling loudly as they walked beside the trapeze artist.  
  
“They’re amazing, aren’t they?”  
  
“Yeah,” Phillip agreed, a little breathless. Barnum was talking about his daughters, but Phillip was not. He watched as Anne disappeared out of sight with the two girls, missing her immediately.  
  
“So what can I do for you Mr. Barnum?” Phillip asked, clearing his throat as he folded his arms behind his back.  
  
“So formal,” Barnum laughed, almost a little embarrassed. “We’re partners, call me P.T.” He had said it to Phillip dozens of times, and he had a feeling he would have to a dozen more. Barnum didn’t mind, he secretly liked it. He sighed, knowing he was going to deliver some information that would be hard for Phillip to hear.  
  
“Mr. Bell withdrew his investment early this morning,” P.T. said, pulling out a letter from his suit jacket.  
  
“What?” Phillip stumbled back in shock. He took the letter slowly and began reading it. “How bad is it?”  
  
“We were doing fine before Bell,” P.T. shrugged, as if it didn’t faze him. “It won’t be the end of the world. We’ll just have to cut back on some expenses, we’ll snap back,” he promised, turning to look at Phillip. Upon seeing his apprentice’s face, he grabbed the young man’s shoulder to emphasis his words. “We always do.”  
  
“I’ll be contributing money-” Phillip began, his breath a little shaky as he folded up the letter.  
  
“Phillip-” Barnum interrupted with a sigh.  
  
“This is my fault. I got us involved with this whole mess. Bell, his daughter-”  
  
“You couldn’t have known it would go sour,” P.T. said firmly, yet reassuringly. Sure, _Barnum_ may not have accepted the deal with the Bells, but Phillip was not an experienced business man. He wouldn’t have known that easy deals like _that_ were almost always bad deals. Besides, Barnum saw a lot of his own young self in Phillip’s eyes, and he definitely made many mistakes when he was Carlyle’s age.  
  
“How are you not mad?” Phillip asked in disbelief.  
  
“Oh, I am mad. I’m mad at Bell for trying to pull this little stunt.”  
  
“He’s done this before?”  
  
“It was never confirmed but there’s an awful lot of companies that, after dealing with Bell, go bankrupt.”  
  
“I shouldn’t have trusted them, they’re all bad news. Everyone one of them-”   
  
“We still make enough that, in time, we’ll be back to where we should be, if not better,” he kept his hand clamped on Phillip’s shoulder. “Phillip, you don’t have to put any money-”  
  
“I do, I will,” Phillip said firmly. “I’m your partner, fifty percent, right? It’s my responsibility too.”  
  
“Ten percent,” Barnum corrected with a small smile, trying to add some levity. He looked at Phillip for a moment before giving in with a nod. He knew the man wouldn’t be giving it up, he was far too prideful for that. Phillip nodded back to Barnum before walking off, needing some air.  
  
Phillip was mindlessly wandering around the building, trying to clear his head. He was pacing, something he did a lot. He was always a busy-mind and when he didn’t have something to keep him occupied, he was often restless. It was one of the many reasons why he struggled during his schooling days. He wasn’t _trying_ to find Anne, really, he wasn’t, yet there he was, watching her feed the elephants with Caroline and Helen. He didn’t realize he was smiling like a fool until his cheeks hurt.  
  
“Hey,” he whispered to Anne, startling her. She turned around and lightly pushing him. She hated being snuck up on.   
  
“Hey,” she said to him with a smile, pulling her shawl closer around her body. It was only September and the chilly Fall wind was already starting to blow in. “What’d Mr. Barnum want?” She asked, leading him a few steps away from Helen and Caroline so they could speak.  
  
“Mr. Bell withdrew his money,” Phillip said, rather reluctantly. In his opinion, the fewer people that knew about this mistake, the better. He intended on solely fixing everything.  
  
“Of course he did,” Anne huffed, rolling her eyes. “I bet this is because of, _Daddy’s Little Girl_ ,” she shook her head in frustration. She hated Sarah Bell more and more each day.  
  
“You were right,” he said suddenly, Anne looking at him rather confused. He rubbed his hands together, brow furrowing. “We’re all the same. Greedy, selfish, narrow-minded,-”  
  
“ _You_ aren’t any of those things,” Anne said, interrupting him. Any other time she would have teased him incessantly for saying she was right about something. “Sorry Carlyle,” she said, bumping his shoulder lightly. “You’re one of us now.” That earned her an earnest smile from him.  
  
“I told Barnum I’d throw cash in to support the circus,” Phillip said with a shrug.  
  
“What about your house?” He had been shopping around for a home while he was, in hindsight ‘dating’, Sarah. Living at the circus was only suppose to be temporary. He put money down on a relatively cheap apartment near the circus.  
  
“I’ll tell them never mind,” he said nonchalantly. “Besides, I’d rather keep living under the same roof as you. If that’s okay,” he looked up at her with a shy smile. She let out a little laugh.  
  
“Of course,” she said with a smile, the two of them gently laughing.  
  
“Anne! It’s trunk touched my hand!” Caroline yelled, turning around to look at the woman. Anne smiled, taking a step away from Phillip. She hadn’t realized how close they had gravitated towards each other during their conversation. She began to walk toward the two girls who were still eagerly feeding the large animals.  
  
“You ever feed an elephant, Mr. Carlyle?” Anne said over her shoulder, holding her hand out for Phillip. He took it slowly, as if unsure, before following her.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say, thank you so much for reading! I know that I haven't responded to everyone in the comments, but I want to assure you that I have read every single comment and they continuously make my day. I've run out of ways to say how much you guys mean to me. To avoid sounding repetitive; sincerely, thank you. I will keep updating as long as someone is reading, because I love it, and I love that you love it. 
> 
> Hope to see you tomorrow for the next chapter! :)

Abraham Bell pulled on his large overcoat, rain had begun to sweep through the city as night approached. He stepped out of the butcher’s shop carrying a few small packages of raw meat. They were neatly wrapped in white wax paper and tucked safely under his left arm. He set his black bowler hat on top of his head, starting to walk down the wet sidewalk. A few businessmen had recognized him on the street, greeting him as they passed. Everyone was hurrying around to try and escape the rain.   
  
He heard many couples exclaim to their significant other that they didn’t want to be late. _Late? Late for what?_ He didn’t have to wonder, for seconds later he heard kids giggling excitedly about the circus. Large crowds were making their way to the other side of town to reach Barnum’s circus. The thought made Bell’s blood boil.   
  
Mr. Bell wasn’t heading home, and he for damn sure was not going to Barnum’s _freak show_. Instead, he was making his way toward The North Corner, a small, dingy bar tucked away in a secluded alleyway. He opened bar’s old wooden door, its hinges screeching as a bell above it dinged, alerting the would-be owner of a customer’s presence. It was meaningless, for Bell _is_ the owner and they _never_ had customers. He shut the door behind him, the rain having picked up into a heavy downpour outside. The bar was empty, like always, which was a relief.  
  
“Close up for the night and send Mr. Morreti down to my office,” Bell ordered to the bartender behind the counter. He turned and opened up what _looked_ like would be a closet. It revealed a set of stone stairs that he wasted no time descending down.  
  
The basement area was extremely lively, a stark contrast to the bar above. The underground was bursting with activity. Men were drinking and cheering, counting out stacks of money and examining fine jewels. Bell didn’t acknowledge any of them, instead he made his way to a cage were a few scraggly-looking wolves sat. He unwrapped the bundles of meat, the creatures perking up instantly. He tossed the slabs of meat into the cage and gave one of the beasts a pat. Bell then walked down a narrow hallway, opening up his office door and flicking the old ceiling light on.   
  
Mr. Bell plopped himself down in his leather chair with a sigh, throwing his hat off somewhere to the side. He pulled out a wooden box of Cuban cigars, placing it on the desk before picking one out. He lit it quickly, setting the box back down in the desk’s drawer. He turned to look at the wooden chess set folded up neatly off on corner of his desk. Slowly, he began to lay the pieces out, one by one.   
  
“You wanted to see me, Boss?” Cristiano Morreti entered the dimly lit room, shutting the door behind him. Cuban cigar smoke was thick in the air, nearly suffocating. The Italian was use to it by now.   
  
“Sit,” Bell ordered, pointing to the chair across from him. Cristiano obeyed.   
  
“You read the papers yet?” Mr. Bell asked, pulling out a newspaper and throwing it to the Underboss. He then looked down at the chess set laid out between them, pushing a pawn forward. He waved a hand to the wooden set, encouraging the man across from him to play.  
  
“Yes, Boss,” Cristiano nodded, moving his own pawn. Chess was a tradition between the two men. Whenever there was a meeting between them, they played chess. Bell always won, he was the strategist while Morreti always tried running in headfirst.  
  
“Then you heard about _Phillip Carlyle_ and my daughter.” It wasn’t a question. Bell leaned back in his chair, taking another huff of his cigar. He blew out the smoke with a quiet exhale, twirling the cigar between his fingers. He moved another pawn forward.  
  
“Yes, Boss,” Cristiano sighed, hesitant. Everyone in New York had heard about it by now, it was front page on all the newspapers. _‘Phillip Carlyle and Sarah-Marie Bell! Inside their ugly break!’_ A picture of Sarah sobbing also accommodated the headline.    
  
“It isn’t a good look for the Bell family,” Bell said, playing with his cigar while he awaited the man’s move.  
  
“No,” Morreti agreed. He picked his other pawn up, setting it down to the right of his first one.  
  
“And I _especially_ do not appreciate my daughter being treated like dirt.”  
  
“Of course not." While Cristiano was _not_ a Bell, Sarah was still like family to him.   
  
“I want you to send him,” Mr. Bell began calmly, pointing at Phillip’s name on the paper. “A message.” His queen goes soaring forward, finding its spot beside Morreti’s second pawn.  
  
“Being what, Boss?” Cristiano asked, scratching his head as he realizes his error. Bell stood up slowly, placing his hands on his desk, careful not to hit the chess board.  
  
“I am _not_ to be made to be crossed,” Bell spat out, gritting his teeth as he stared down at the picture of his crying daughter. He sank back down in his chair, lighting another cigar. Knowing the other man had already accepted defeat, Bell moved his queen up to Cristiano’s now defenseless king.  
  
“Yes, Boss,” Cristiano said with a nod. “I’ll send only my very best,” he promised.  
  
“Checkmate,” Bell said, rather bored as he knocked Morreti’s king off the board. Morreti retrieved the piece, setting it down off to the side. He stood up, ready to leave. “Cristiano,” Bell’s voice made the man stop in his tracks.  
  
“Yes, Boss?”  
  
“Don’t kill anyone yet. I wanna see them all squirm first.”   
  
“Yes, Boss.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any head cannons/prompts/scenarios etc. please leave them in a comment! I get stuck rather often on these chapters and your ideas may help the story flow! (they don't have to be relevant to this story, just as long as they're about Anne/Phillip)


	15. Chapter 15

She found him the next morning when she was about to start practicing. He was hanging upside down off her bar, a feeble attempt to mirror one of her moves. His hands were holding onto the bar in a white knuckle grip to try and keep himself from falling, clearly not trusting his balance.   
  
“What are you doing?” Anne asked, looking at him with an amused smile. He didn’t realize her presence until she spoke. His hands fell off the bar, startled. Anne had thought that, in that moment, he looked like a little boy with his hand caught in the cookie jar. No one else was allowed to use her bar, it was an unofficial rule.   
  
“Oh, you know,” Phillip said with a charming smile, trying to act casual despite the uncomfortable position he was in. “Hanging around,” he slipped a little, scrambling to grab the bar again.  
  
“You have to let go,” she giggled, stepping up to him. She tried to pull his arm away, Phillip only clinging on tighter.   
  
“No way!”  
  
“You’re three feet off the ground.”  
  
“That’s a lot,” he said defensively.   
  
“Yeah for Helen or Caroline,” she teased. He would have crossed his arms over his chest if they weren’t holding onto the bar in a death grip.  
  
“Here,” she said. She tried to grab his arm again but he made a noise in protest. “No, I’m not-” she sighed. “Come here,” she grabbed his one hand. He seemed unsure about it for a moment, still holding onto the bar with his other hand. “Now the other.”  
  
“No!” He laughed in protest.  
  
“Phillip!” She said, shaking her head, amused. He was being ridiculous. He slowly released the bar, his hand instantly grabbing onto her. “There you go. Now let go of my hands.”  
  
“I’ll fall.”  
  
“No you won’t,” she promised and slowly he retracted his hands. He was then dangling all by himself, a wide smile on his face.  
  
“Hey! Check me out!” Phillip laughed. His white button-down shirt began to slide, falling over his face rather unceremoniously. He squirmed uncomfortably as his shirt continued to fall down, now tangled around his neck. She couldn’t hold back a laugh as Phillip continued to struggle. Her smile fell off her face when she saw his torso, an ugly, raised scar marking his ribs.   
  
“Anne?” Phillip asked, hearing her go silent. He twisted around, confused, still blinded by his shirt. He began to swivel his head around, as if he was trying to echo-locate her. “Anne?” He tried again.   
  
When she didn’t respond he began to get worried. He tried to ease himself down, ending up slipping and falling off the bar. He hit the dirt ground with a thud. He shot up, shaking the dust from his hair as he pulled his shirt back down. Phillip looked up at her, she was still standing in front of him which baffled him even more. _Why had she gone quiet?_  
  
“What’s wrong?” He asked, taking a step towards her. “Anne?” She reached up and unbuttoned his shirt, pushing the fabric down to his shoulders. He froze up, stuck between mortified and shocked.  
  
“Anne wha-” he hissed as her ice cold fingers touched his side. She leaned down slightly, trying to get a better view of the scar.   
  
“What happened?” she said, voice quiet. It took Phillip a moment to respond, too disoriented.   
  
“This?” Phillip asked, looking down at the scar as if he had forgotten it was there. “’S nothing,” he said with a shrug, trying to dismiss the conversation. Her fingers glided over the old, marred skin. He flinched this time.   
  
“It was deep,” she observed, eyes not leaving the scar.  
  
“It’s nothing,” Phillip said more firmly this time. He tilted her head up so she had to look up at him. He looked into her eyes, silently begging her to leave it be. He pulled her hand off his side and took it into his own. He blew on her cold hands to warm them up.  She twisted away, clearly not content with his answer.   
  
“That’s _not_ nothing.”  
  
“I was a clumsy kid."   
  
“Phillip-”  
  
“Anne,” he snapped. She looking up at him, surprised. He sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry I used your bar,” he said before walking off. She called him but he didn’t come back.  
  
She used all her frustration to practice. She was suppose to be the reserved one, he was always gentle and patient with her, so why was he shutting her out now? Anne had swung around for hours, only stopping when she heard Caroline and Helen calling up to her. She looked down at the two girls, surprised to see them.  
  
“Anne!”  
  
“Hey,” she said, still not feeling very cheerful.   
  
“Dad left again so Mom said we get to have lunch with you and Lettie!” Caroline said with a smile.  
  
It turned out lunch didn’t mean leftover stew backstage, but instead coffee and sandwiches at the Barnum’s dinning room table. Conversation was light, Caroline was telling Anne what she was learning during her schooling while Helen showed Lettie her arts and crafts. Once the girls finished their lunch, Charity shooed them away. She then turned to Anne.   
  
“So? What is it?”  
  
“What?” Anne asked, genuinely confused. Charity turned to Lettie, looking for backup.  
  
“I know, I see it too,” the bearded woman admitted with a nod.  
  
“What?” Anne repeated, a little annoyed now.  
  
“You’ve been quiet.”  
  
“It’s nothing,” Anne mumbled, staring down into her cup of coffee.  
  
“Was it Carlyle again?” Lettie groaned. “I swear, I love that boy but he can be stupider than a brain dead cow.”  
  
“It’s- It is about Phillip,” she admitted, unsure is she should say anything. “It’s just,” she sighed, conflicted. “We have to keep this conversation between us,” she motioned to the three of them.  
  
“Oh my god, what happened?” Charity asked, mind instantly going through worst case scenarios. Anne raised an eyebrow, waiting for their answer.  
  
“Yes. Of course,” Lettie and Charity promised, desperate to hear what Anne wanted to say.  
  
“Phillip has a scar,” Anne said, twisting a napkin in her hands to focus on something.   
  
“Lots of people have scars,” Lettie offered.  
  
“No, not like this,” Anne set the napkin down. “It’s old, and deep.”  
  
“It could have been from him rough-housing as a little boy.”  
  
“It looks like it’s from a blade.” Everyone was silent after that. Anne looked out the window to her left. “He shut me out when I asked about it.”  
  
“Confront him.” Charity shrugged.   
  
“He ran away this morning.”  
  
“So? Don’t let him run next time,” Lettie said.  
  
Anne decided she would take their advice to heart.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this update came a little late! The next chapter will be out tomorrow as usual though :)

The circus building was filling up as the audience poured in, taking their seats in the half-lit arena. The protesters were outside, as usual, but to everyone’s surprise they didn’t impact ticket sales for the night. Behind the curtain the performers bustled around as they got ready for the show. Lettie and Anne were side-by-side putting on their makeup, like they did every night. Meanwhile, W.D. was helping Tom tack his war horse, Marengo, while Walter brushed out his large amounts of facial hair.  
  
Upstairs, Phillip was standing in front of the mirror Barnum gave him. He straightened his tie around his neck, flattening it against his shirt. P.T. knocked on the door and, before even entering, Phillip knew it was him. None of the other performers seemed to understand the importance of knocking, something that baffled him.  
  
“Ready? Show’s about to start,” Barnum said, stepping inside Phillip’s office, flashing a smile. He was radiating with energy, practically bouncing up and down. It had been a few weeks since P.T. was able to be on stage with the rest of his people, having been too busy with Jenny Lind’s concerts. He finally had time to come by and be apart of the show tonight.  
  
“Yeah, I’ll be right down,” Phillip promised. He heard Barnum leave, the man running down the stairs. Phillip grabbed his red suit jacket off his desk, about to pull it on when he stopped. Phillip looked into the mirror again, thinking to himself. Slowly, he unbuttoned his shirt and pushed it back, just enough to see the scar on his ribs. He stared at it long and hard, his fingers curling into fists.  
  
Just as promised, Phillip was downstairs moments later dressed in his ringmaster suit. He glanced up to see Anne and he had to force himself not to stop walking. Somehow, he had managed to avoid her after practice that morning and hadn’t seen her for the rest of the day. Suddenly, he wished he could run back upstairs and hide in his office. Unfortunately, that wasn’t an option.  
  
“Phillip! Come on,” Barnum called his apprentice over to him.  
  
Anne was still doing her show makeup when she saw Phillip in her vanity mirror. He was running down the stairs and making his way towards Barnum when he quickly looked over at her. She held her breath, brush frozen over her cheek as she watched him just as quickly look  away from her. She let out a shaky breath as he kept walking, turning her focus back to her makeup.  
  
“Anne?” Lettie was looking over at her.  
  
“Hmm?” Anne turned her head toward Lettie, not realizing the woman had been talking to her.  
  
“I asked if you were ready,” Lettie repeated.  
  
“Oh,” Anne looked at herself in the mirror again, brushing a little more makeup onto her cheek. Satisfied, she threw her pink wig on. “Yeah, I’m ready.”  
  
All the performers gathered near the curtain, falling into their places. Phillip and Barnum stood side-by-side in the center, pulling their hats on in sync. Anne and W.D. were also in the front, Anne turning her head to the left to sneak a look at Phillip. He steeled his face, his body rigid like a board. It was a drastic difference to how he normally was before shows, energetic and bubbly. She couldn’t help but wonder if it had to do with their argument that morning. The curtain fell open without warning and the bright stage lights blinded them all, the audience cheering loudly. W.D. nudged Anne with his elbow, flashing her a big smile. Together, they all ran out into the center of the ring.  
  
The show went flawlessly. They had stuck to their normal routine, saving all the fancy moves for their big Friday show. W.D. and Anne were walking to the barn to put Tom’s horse away, while the performers back stage began to take off their costumes. The crowd was now draining out of the building, Phillip and Barnum on good-bye duty out the front.  
  
A group of kids ran by and gave Phillip a high five, which he excitedly returned. Everyone was laughing and smiling as they exited the building, clearly enjoying the show. Phillip turned to Barnum, about to say something to him when a scream split through the air. Phillip’s blood went cold, _it came from the barn_. _Anne!_ P.T. and Phillip looked at each other for a split second before frantically running off toward the barn.  
  
“Move! Move!” Phillip barked as he reached the opened door. He had to push his way through all the performers who had crowded around the entrance. He nearly fell over in the process, frantically trying to make his way to the front of the group. When he finally pushed his way through them all, he saw the scene. Bloody straw and broken cages.   
  
All their show animals laid dead before them, save for Tom’s horse that W.D. was still holding. Barnum was hot on Phillip’s heels, arriving seconds later. The two men stared down in horror, the performers behind them crying softly. Anne and W.D. were looking around in shock, as if not quite believing this had actually happened. Barnum’s hands curled into fists and he shoved his way back through the crowd of performers, heading to the front of the building. He was going to have a 'talk _'_   with their protesters.


	17. Chapter 17

“Hey, what are you doing out here?” Phillip whispered, standing in the entrance of the barn. He crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against a support beam. It was a quiet night, no one out late in the city as fall quickly approached. It was a cool, breezy evening, like the ones he always loved as a little boy.  
  
“Couldn’t sleep,” Anne said softly. She was sitting in one of the old elephant cages, all of the bloody straw had been disposed of in a fire a few hours prior. The police had removed all the animal carcasses, opening up an investigation on the matter. Phillip had no doubt it would be front page news by tomorrow morning. He lowered his head, empty cages didn’t feel right. Anne loved the elephants, her and W.D. would always visit them to feed them peanuts after every show.  
  
“You shouldn’t be out here,” Phillip said, voice still quiet. “It’s dangerous.” They hadn’t caught anyone yet and Phillip didn’t like the idea that any of the performers were outside, alone no less.  
  
“How did you know _I_ was out here?” Anne asked, still sitting with her legs crossed.  
  
“I uh,” Phillip nervously looked down at his fingers, picking at his nails. It was obvious he didn’t want to answer her. “Couldn’t sleep either. I was going to go for a walk with an old friend,” he said, pulling out his flask from his coat. He looked away from Anne, shame washing over his face. “I saw your bed was empty when I walked downstairs.”  
  
Anne tucked her knees to her chest, looping her arms around her legs. She was giving him that _look_ , the disappointed but saddened, Anne patented _look_. He _hated_ that look. Phillip had never met anyone that made him feel as guilty as Anne was able to. He tucked his flask away, still not looking up at her.  
  
“Why do you drink, Phillip?” It was an innocent enough question. He let out a sad laugh, laced with exhaustion and self-hatred.  
  
“It’s a long story,” he said with a sigh, walking toward the other elephant cage beside Anne. He sat down in the middle, taking out his steel flask again. He shook it gently, listening to the liquid sloshing around inside. He pressed it to his forehead, willing himself not to take a sip. Anne turned towards him, watching him through the bars. She didn’t say anything, instead she was going to let him talk when he was ready.  
  
“I uh, started because it was the normal thing to do,” Phillip said, rubbing his finger along the engravings. “Parties, dinners…” he trailed off, voice getting quieter. He cleared his throat. “When I started doing my plays, I just-” he shrugged.  
  
“I always thought you loved your plays.”  
  
“But that’s the thing, they _weren’t_ my plays,” Phillip sighed, laying down on his back. He was looking up at the stars above them. “I hired an English play-writer. My Mother and Father were always so… suffocating, in everything I did. Failure was never an option with them, so I had Henry write all the scripts. He knew the deal, that he would never get any credit, but he was always okay with that. For some reason.” To this day he never understood why the man let Phillip take all the credit. It was such an unheard of thing, to throw away fame like that.

Phillip was quiet for awhile, too scared to look at her. _Would she be disgusted with him?_ Probably. She _should_. Hell, he was disgusted with himself. “No one ever found out, of course, but the guilt still-” he let out a sigh. “I’m a fraud.”  
  
“You’re not a fraud-!”  
  
“I feel like I am, sometimes. I’m not a great play-writer, a great son, a family heir. I started drinking to mask all the pressure.” He let out a loud exhale, quiet once more.  
  
“You’re not a fraud,” she said again, softer this time. “All you wanted is approval from your family, that makes you human.”  
  
“I just wanted to make my parents happy. What a fool I was.”  
  
“Then you went and joined the circus,” Anne said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.  
  
“Then I joined the circus” Phillip chuckled, repeating her. “Then _I_ was happy.”  
  
“Are you still?”  
  
“Yeah, of course,” Phillip sat up, surprised she would think otherwise. She changed the topic.  
  
“I don’t get why they would kill a bunch of animals, Phillip,” Anne said with a sigh, laying down on the cold steel of the elephant cage.  Marengo nickered softly, rooting around in his hay.  
  
“I don’t either,” he agreed, laying down again, as well.  
  
“Do you think it was the protesters?”  
  
“Had to be,” Phillip shrugged. “When Barnum left he had gone to the front of the building to talk to them. They were long gone.”  
  
“Do you think Barnum will stop doing shows for a while?” The idea scared her, the circus was the only thing she had, the only thing any of them had.  
  
“Maybe tomorrow’s, I don’t know.” Phillip sighed, tucking his arm over his head. “Probably not though.” Anne swallowed hard, staring up at the moon.  
  
“I think that, after tonight’s events, we should be careful around each other,” Anne confessed, saying it all at once in a jumbled sentence. Phillip didn’t dare to look over at her, he knew where this conversation was going. “I’m not saying never, Phillip,” Anne said softly, looking over at him. “Please look at me.” He complied, turning onto his side, his blue eyes burning into her own. They were quiet for a while, just staring into each others eyes. She reached forward and grabbed his hand through the bars.  
  
“Talk to me,” she pleaded.  
  
Phillip shrugged, hesitant to speak his mind. “It’s just that,” he sighed. “You’re always afraid of what _could_ happen.”  
  
“I'm afraid _because_ I care about you, Phillip. What if something had happened to _you_ , instead of the animals? What if they butchered _you_ instead?”  
  
“I don’t want you to have to live like that, constantly cautious.”  
  
“That’s not up to you,” she said sadly.  
  
They didn’t say anything after that, Phillip closing his eyes as a gust of cool fall wind blew through the barn. He turned to look over at Anne, who was now fast asleep. He stood up and stepped into her cage, pulling off his overcoat and setting it over her like a blanket.  
  
“Goodnight, Anne,” he whispered, returning to his own cage to sleep.


	18. Chapter 18

“Mr. Carlyle,” Patrick O’Shaughnessy called, knocking on the man’s back door. The door opened quickly, a very angry John Carlyle now standing in the entrance.  
  
“O’Shaughnessy? What the hell are you doing here?” John Carlyle hissed, looking around carefully to make sure no one was watching them. Once he was convinced there were no prying eyes, he stepped outside. “Do you not remember what discrete means?” He grunted, quickly leading the man away from the Carlyle Manor. He checked over his shoulder, making sure none of his men had seen Patrick. If people knew that John Carlyle was having the shady types over at his house, he'd be done for.  
  
“Have you read the paper this morning?” Patrick asked,  rather unapologetic. John Carlyle looked puzzled at the question.  
  
“No.”  
  
“Thought you’d wanna see this,” he handed John that morning’s newspaper, walking beside him as they began the short walk to the city.  Carlyle opened up the paper, beginning to read it while he walked. He stopped in his tracks when he read the headline. _BARNUM CIRCUS ATTACKED! FIFTEEN ANIMALS DEAD TOTAL_. John looked over at O’Shaughnessy, questioningly.  
  
“Wasn’t us,” the Irishman promised.  
  
“It was Bell,” Carlyle said with a growl, tossing the newspaper over his shoulder, the wind catching it as it blew away.  
  
“What’d you suppose it means?” Patrick asked, watching as the man pulled out his flask, taking a big gulp.  
  
“He’s declaring war.”  
  
“What, with the circus? Why?” Patrick looked over to Carlyle. He didn’t hate the circus by any means. Although, the Irish Giant was a bit shameful, _man’s not even Irish_ , he had thought. Sure, his father despised Barnum’s freak show but Patrick was rather fascinated by it. Hell, he was even tempted to bring his kids to see the show, he knew they would love it. His heart sunk a little, it would be impossible to bring his children to Barnum’s circus with his father and John Carlyle both breathing down his neck.  
  
“No you fool, he’s declaring war with us,” John huffed, taking another sip from his flask. “ _With Phillip_ ,” John shook his head, frustrated. He was suddenly very grateful he had filled the flask up. After this news, he intended on drinking all of it right now. “Damn boy, should have never got involved with that low-class ‘entertainment’ business. Not to mention the Bells, I thought I taught him better than that.” Although he would never admit it, a small part of John would have rather had Phillip get with the colored woman than mess with Sarah-Marie Bell.  
  
“What do you want to do about it, Mr. Carlyle?”  
  
“For starters, we keep your father at his post in front circus. If Bell's men come back, we'll find out.”  
  
“Keeps him busy,” Patrick said with a nod, grateful. To say his father was a handful was an understatement. When he was younger, his father was a great leader for the O’Shaughnessys, but as he got older he degraded significantly. John handed the flask off to the Irishman, Patrick taking a swig before handing it back.  
  
“If you so much as catch a whiff of Bell’s mob then you act on it. They’re gonna keep pushing us to see what they can get away with. They know the rules, if they cross the border they’re ours.”  
  
“We retaliatin’ then?” John nodded. This seemed to make O’Shaunhnessy perk up. “The boys will like hearing that. They're itchin' for a fight.”  
  
They kept walking, Carlyle’s feet instinctual leading them to the local pub. O’Shaunhnessy didn’t seem to mind, he was a man that could hold his liquor. The two walked in, John Carlyle was a regular enough customer that no one would bat an eye at him or his company. They took a seat at a booth, a waiter setting down a bottle of whiskey for them.  
  
“Bell likes his investments, a little too much,” John continued after pouring them both shots. “I want you to figure out who does business with him, and cut them out of the equation.”  
  
“How you want them cut out?” Patrick asked, knocking back the shot of liquor with ease, Carlyle pouring him another.  
  
“Dear boy,” John clicked his tongue. “I’ve always let you be creative with these… _situations._ This one is no different.” O’Shaughnessy nodded, both of them taking another shot.  
  
The next morning, Bell’s three closest investors stores burned to the ground. The O’Shaunhnessys had let them all live, Patrick was merciful, a notion his father never approved of. When the police interviewed all the store owners, they pointed their fingers at Mr. Bell as the arsonist. The man was then brought in for questioning. It would only be the start of a bloody gang war.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More Anne and Phillip next chapter!
> 
> Thank you to everyone commenting!


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shout-out and (a big thank you) to @zac-zendaya and @releaseyourinibitions on tumblr! It's an honor to be mentioned on the same page with all of those amazing authors! Thank you so much!

There had been no show that night. Between the animals being killed and buildings being burned down, people were starting to get nervous to venture outside. He didn’t blame them.  
  
Phillip laid sprawled out on his bed, frustrated. He had been tossing and turning restlessly, unable to get comfortable. He was always too hot, or his leg itched, or the springs dug into his back. He tucked his arm under his head, trying once last time to shut his eyes. It  soon became apparent it was going to be one of those sleepless night.  
  
He sat up with a huff and climbed out of the bed that was crammed into the corner of his office. He threw himself down into his desk chair with a sigh. Phillip opened up the top right drawer in his desk, pulling out his flask. He let out another sigh, head in his hands as he unscrewed the cap.  
  
Then Anne stepped in.  
  
“Anne?” His hand lowered as he stared at her, surprised by her sudden appearance. Phillip looked down in horror at the flask in his hand. He quickly screwed the cap back on, throwing it back into the drawer as fast as humanly possible. Disgusted with himself. He ran a nervous hand through his hair.  
  
“Hey,” she whispered, still standing in the doorway. Upon seeing his flask, she looked away. Whenever she saw him alone, drinking, she felt uncomfortable interrupting. Like it was an intimate thing, just him and his whiskey. Washing away sorrows that he buried. She wanted to help him, but she wasn’t sure he _wanted_ help. Her hand stayed on the doorknob, ready to flee at any moment. She knew coming up here was a bad idea.  
  
“What’s wrong?” He said slowly. Why had she come into his office so late in the night? Surely something horrible had to have happened. She made it clear last night that she didn’t want to be anywhere near him, so who just hurt themselves? W.D.? Tom?  
  
“Can’t sleep.”

He wanted to laugh, sleep had _always_ been a stranger to him.  
  
“Ah. Can’t really help you with that. I can’t sleep either,” he gestured to the flask in his desk. “Another bad habit.” If he really couldn’t sleep, a little alcohol normally helped him. If that didn’t work he would just give up and lay in his bed all night, staring at the ceiling. Phillip was still on edge, not wanting to look up and meet her eyes. He hated when she caught him drinking, it made him feel so weak. _He is weak._  
  
“You ever think about stopping?” She asked, gesturing to the flask.  
  
“Everyone needs an addiction,” he said softly, dodging the question. She sat on the floor beside his desk, her head resting against the wall.  
  
“I suppose,” she said, though not entirely agreeing with him. She changed subjects before the conversation led them down a path she wasn’t ready for. “Do you think it was the same guys? That killed the animals? You think they burned down those stores?”  
  
“I don’t know,” he admitted. He joined her on the floor, back against the wall. “World’s gone crazy.”  
  
“It scares me a little, if I’m being honest,” Anne admitted. Phillip turned to look at her.  
  
“Scares me too.”  
  
Phillip reached into his pants' pocket to check his pocket-watch, sighing as he read the time. _Midnight, it was midnight already._ When he tucked the watch away, he turned back to Anne. She was staring at his side, unable to look away.  
  
“What?” Phillip asked, confused. He began to check his shirt, did he have a stain? When he twisted, he instantly froze. His shirt had lifted up. _His scar_. She had seen his scar. He looked up at her hesitantly, afraid what he might see. She was staring back at him, amber eyes filled with concern.  
  
He let out a defeated sigh and laid down on the plywood floor. He turned to face her after a moment.  
  
“I was twelve,” he began.  
  
“Phillip you don’t have to-”  
  
“I was twelve,” he said it more firmly, like he was going to tell his story this time and not back down. But he wasn’t trying to prove that to Anne, he was trying to prove it to himself. He continued.  
  
“And I would always sneak out of the house at night, for stupid reasons. I’d run through the woods pretending there was monsters everywhere, or I’d watch people on the streets bustling around at night.” Anne shifted, laying down beside him.  
  
“One day my dad caught me,” he paused. Anne was watching him, listening intently. Phillip’s eyes remained fixed on the wood ceiling above him. “Picked up a kitchen knife and threw it at me,” Phillip said quickly, like pulling off a band-aid. Anne let out a sharp exhale. “Mother was always good at stitching up clothes, then she got good at stitching up her son.”  
  
Anne winced, looking away. She understood the need to suppress that kind of pain. If he kept talking about these kinds of things, these traumas he’d endured, she’d have to hug him, comfort him, do something. She couldn’t do any of those things, however, she couldn’t even touch him.  
  
“Every time I look at it,” Phillip said, pulling up his shirt to look at the ugly mark. “I see my father’s disappointed face. Maybe if I was just a better son…,” he sighed, looking away.  
  
“You blame yourself?” She asked in disbelief.  
  
“I just wanted him to be proud of me.”  
  
“Phillip-” she began, cutting herself off with a yawn.  
  
“You should go to bed, Anne,” he said, somewhat thankful at that. He _really_ didn't want to talk about his father.

“I’m only gonna stau up here for a little while longer,” she promised, eyelids growing heavy. She was not done with _that_ conversation.  
  
“Even so, what kind of man would I be to have a lady sitting on the ground?”  
  
“A _circus boy_ ,” she said teasingly, a smile on her lips.  
  
“Man,” he corrected softly.  
  
“No, boy,” she protested sleepily, fighting to stay awake.  
  
No one slept in the bed that night.


	20. Chapter 20

They had a show the next night. It wasn’t planned, so when crowds began to pile up outside their doors, Phillip had started to get a sinking feeling. His initial assumption was that the protesters had returned to torment them. He was wrong. Outside in the cold stood dozens of families with their children, begging for them to put on a show. He didn’t have the heart to turn them all away. It would seem that the their closings only made people want to see the show more. Even with the shady group terrorizing the city, the crowd didn’t let it deter them.  
  
He supposed that was a good lesson for everyone.  
  
The performers didn’t have any qualms doing a show that night, quite the opposite actually. It had only been three days since their last show, but for everyone at the circus it felt like forever. The Oddities missed the crowds as much as the crowds missed them. Tonight’s show might not be one of their fanciest, but it would definitely have a lot of heart.  
  
Word spread quickly that the circus was opened, and before long, the building was filled to capacity. Phillip had sent word to Barnum and awaited his arrival while everyone hurried to get ready. His leg was bouncing up and down, but he wasn’t nervous, he was excited. He loved this place and the smiles that came with it. Then he saw W.D. approach him and he took it all back.  
  
W.D. was frowning, as per usual when he was looking at Phillip. Phillip wondered if he had time to run away from W.D., looking around for an escape route.  
  
“Carlyle.”  
  
Apparently not.  
  
“W.D.,” Phillip greeted the man, forcing a smile on his face. The older Wheeler was towering over him, W.D. a very intimidating man. Phillip’s smile slid off his face, dread replacing it. W.D. wasn’t one for small talk with Phillip, so the fact that he wanted to talk to him probably meant it was about Anne.  
  
“Why was my sister in your room last night?” W.D. asked, crossing his arms over his chest. Phillip could have sworn W.D. had the ability to read his mind. The man answered an unasked question that he knew was there. “Anne is my baby sister, I always know where she is, that’s my _job_.”  
  
Phillip looked passed him to get a glance at Anne, hoping she could come save him. The woman was currently laughing with Lettie as the two of them applied their makeup. Phillip was going to have to brave it and talk to W.D. by himself.  
  
“She just wanted to talk, she couldn’t sleep. That’s all,” Phillip explained. “She saw my light on and came upstairs.”  
  
“And you helped her _‘sleep’_ huh?” W.D. grunted, clearly not believing Phillip and Anne _only_ talked.  
  
“Nothing happened,” Phillip promised.  
  
“I don’t want you anywhere near her,” W.D. said firmly. Phillip sighed, about to say something when the man continued. “Anne doesn’t care how I feel about that, though,” he said with a slight smile.  
  
Phillip let out a small chuckle, W.D. then doing the same. They both knew all to well how Anne could be.  
  
“She doesn’t listen to most people’s opinions,” Phillip observed.  
  
“No, she doesn’t,” W.D. turned to look over at his sister who was now fixing her pink wig. “But it’s how we stayed alive.”  
  
Phillip looked away. He knew the Wheeler siblings had a hard life when they were younger, they still do now. Hell, he sees first-hand how poorly some people treat them, and that’s even with the circus standing behind them. Phillip didn’t want to think what it was like when it was just the two of them.  
  
“You need to stay away from Anne.”  
  
Phillip inhaled sharply, _there_ was the lecture he was waiting for.  
  
“It’s the best thing for both of you,” W.D. added softly. Not only was it dangerous for his sister, but also for the love-struck man. As much as he didn’t want to admit, he’d hate for Phillip to be killed just because of Anne.  
  
“She told me the same thing,” Phillip nodded, pushing around some dirt with his show shoes.  
  
“Did she now?” W.D. seemed surprised. _Why was he surprised?_  
  
“She thinks it’s whats best,” Phillip shrugged. “Who am I to tell her otherwise?” It angered him, how could someone hate a woman so pure and magnificent like Anne?  
  
“You know, I never liked you,” W.D. said bluntly, catching Phillip off guard. It must have showed, because W.D. tried to find the right words.  
  
“Look, Phillip,” he sighed, trying again. “I don’t _hate_ you,” he was clearly struggling. “I didn’t trust you when you first showed up, but what you did today,” he gestured to the crowd on the other side of the curtain. “You make me believe in you.”  
  
“Wow,” Phillip said, a little stunned. “Thanks W.D.,” Phillip smiled, surprised. He felt a little honored. W.D. has _never_ said anything nice to him. In fact, W.D. rarely talked to Phillip in the first place.  
  
“Sometimes,” W.D. corrected. “Only _sometimes_ do I believe in you, other times you’re a complete idiot,” though he said it with jest, smiling.  
  
“There’s the W.D. I know,” Phillip laughed. W.D. clamped his hand onto Phillip’s shoulder, chuckling lightly. W.D. looked up and saw his sister waiting for him by their beds, oblivious to the two men laughing.  
  
“I gotta go. Let’s give ‘em a good show,” W.D. said, nodding to the man before walking off to join his sister.  
  
Phillip sighed, straightening his tie. He really didn’t need to be thinking about Anne right now. Digging into his pocket, he checked the time on the watch. They wouldn’t be able to wait much longer for Barnum-  
  
His train of thought was interrupted as Barnum rushed through the back door, dawning his red suit.  
  
“Phillip!” The man said, out of breath. He must have ran from his carriage.  
  
“Come on old man! You’re holding us up,” Phillip teased, pulling his top hat on.  
  
“I came as fast as I could!” Barnum protested. Everyone was starting to line up behind them, getting into position behind the curtain.  
  
“Sorry for the short notice,” Phillip said with an apologetic smile. He _never_ did a show without P.T.'s go ahead. It was _Barnum’s Circus_ after all.  
  
“Sorry? No! This is fantastic!” Barnum exclaimed, beaming. He turned to the Oddities, as if asking for their opinions. He got cheers in response. Right before the curtains opened, he looked back to Phillip. “ _This_ is what this place is all about.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for your support!


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay, this chapter is twice as long so it took a little longer for me to write :)

Things were finally turning around for everyone. The papers were now starting to print things other than the grim news that had dominated the city. The circus was now on the front page. Barnum’s reporter friend, though Phillip used that word loosely, had decided that it would be a nice change of tone, one that everyone needed. Instead of fear and burned buildings being displayed on every paper, families were now shown smiling and dancing at P.T. Barnum’s Circus.  
  
The Friday show had just let out. It was always their biggest showing of the week, but their new found publicity only added to the massive crowd. Walter and Barnum stood by the front, beginning to say good-bye to their attendants. Walter normally avoided the good-bye duties, outside of his wild persona, he was a quiet man that avoided crowds. Tonight, however, when a baby laughed at him for the first time ever, he decided he could get use to it.  
  
As kids rushed by, giving Walter excited high-fives, the Dog-Boy shot Barnum a wide smile.   
  
“I’m more popular than you tonight,” Walter said with jest. Barnum crossed his arms over his chest, pretending to look offended.  
  
Walter was not only enjoying the spotlight, but relishing in it. Seeing him come out of his shell was one of the many things that Barnum loved about his circus, as well as all his performers within it. Walter was the last of them that had remained a bit reserved when it came to meeting the public. A nagging voice in the back of his mind always told him to be careful, that people would be scare of him. He was finally learning they weren't.  
  
“So, _Lion Man_?” Walter prompted, hopeful. He had been trying for weeks to persuade Barnum to change his show-name. The ringmaster always gave him a hard time about it, but it was all in good fun. It became a sort of game between the two of them.  
  
“Lion Man? I don’t know, lions are awfully scary…” Barnum said, trying not to smile. He tipped his hat to a man walking out of the circus, children in tow. He then straightened his bright red ringmaster suit, seeing that Walter wasn’t ready to give up today.  
  
“Lions are cooler than dogs,” Walter pointed out. He roughed up a little boy’s hair, the child giggling before skipping off.  
  
“I’m gonna need more convincing,” Barnum said teasingly. “I want you to write me an essay-”  
  
“An essay?!” Walter exclaimed. “What-!”  
  
“Yeah, yeah. An essay,” he was clearly improving everything. Barnum had his finger resting on his chin as he looked up into the sky, thinking hard. He was trying his best not to burst out laughing.   
  
“An essay on why _‘Lion Man’_ is a better show name than the classic and beloved _Dog-Boy._ ” Upon seeing Walter’s horrified face, Barnum dropped the act. “Just messing with you.”  
  
Walter relaxed, letting out a relieved sigh.   
  
Almost none of the performers could write due to not having a proper education. Tom was the exception, having been schooled at home by his mother.   
  
“I’m still not changing it,” Barnum quipped, smile never fading from his face.  
  
“Oh, what-”  
  
The two continued to banter back and forth, having to pause every few seconds to say goodnight to the guests.   
  
  
Backstage, the rest of the Oddities were packing everything up. They were placing their props against the wall while the rest of them were busy stuffing their costumes into wooden chests. W.D. was standing with Tom and Marengo in the middle of all the commotion. The horse not fazed by any of the chaos surrounding him. He was now use to all the noise and ruckus that the circus offered.   
  
Tom was in the middle of arguing with an amused W.D. Wheeler, their costumes making the scene all the more comical. A general, _albeit a little one_ , was yelling at a man in a purple leotard.  
  
“Come on! Just give him a pet!” W.D. encouraged, still laughing. He gave the white stallion a pat on the nose, Marengo barely acknowledging him. “See?”  
  
“No way! He tried to bite me before!” Tom yelled back. Even though he rode the horse, he still wasn’t very comfortable around it.   
  
“He was hungry!” W.D. defended the animal, acting as if Tom insulted _him_ and not the horse.  
  
“He’s rabid!”  
  
“Oh come on! _Napoleon_ wasn’t afraid of his horse!”  
  
That seemed to have struck a cord.  
  
“ _Afraid_? I’m not _afraid,_ ” Tom shouted, offended. “And I’m not Napoleon either. _I’m taller_.”  
  
“Then pet him.”  
  
Anne had joined the two men, now standing beside her brother. She was laughing at their ridiculous argument.  
  
Phillip was in the middle of helping Lettie close the main curtain. He was now distracted, having caught sight of the three performers from his peripherals. Tom and W.D. were still arguing, the little general clearly not amused. If Phillip was being honest, he was only watching Anne. It seemed that, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t force her out of his head. It was like she lived there. He would see her and his heart stopped, he would hear her and stop breathing.  
  
Lettie snapped her fingers in front of Phillip’s face, startling him out of his daze. He shook his head slightly, as if to shake away the thoughts. The young ringmaster turned to her, clearing his throat and straightening his red tie.  
  
“Excuse me,” Phillip said, smile on his lips. He tried to sound offended, failing miserably.   
  
“You gonna help me pull this down or what?” Lettie grunted, tugging on the extremely tense rope. The curtain barely budging. “I need your big man muscles!”  
  
“ _Big man muscles,_ ” Phillip scoffed under his breath, smiling. He shooed her out of the way as he pulled the rope down with one firm tug. The satin curtain glided closed. He shrugged, pretending it was effortless. “Easy.”   
  
That earned him a punch in the shoulder.  
  
His focus shifted once again, staring passed Lettie as he watched Anne climb onto Marengo’s back. She was running her fingers through the stallion’s pristine white mane. Lettie let out a sigh, gently resting her hand on Phillip’s shoulder.  
  
“What?” He asked innocently, pretending like he wasn’t staring at Anne.  
  
“ _’What?’_ ” Lettie said, mocking him. She liked mocking Phillip. “You know _exactly_ what.” Phillip shifted uncomfortably, he didn’t want to talk about this. “Why don’t you go over and talk to her?” She said it like he was a little boy with a playground crush.   
  
Phillip shook his head, crossing his arms over his chest as if to protect himself. He ran his fingers through his hair, setting his top hat down on a barrel. He was still wearing his ringmaster suit.  
  
“She doesn’t want-” he gestured to himself and then to Anne. He didn’t have the words. Words always escaped him when he talked about Anne Wheeler.   
  
“What do _you_ want?” Lettie asked. Phillip inhaled sharply. This was becoming a dangerous conversation. He shook his head, not answering her. He didn’t want everyone to keep talking about him and Anne. “Come on, between friends,” Lettie promised. She was many of the performers’ confidant.   
  
“I want to be with her,” Phillip shrugged. He acted like it was no big deal, like he didn’t need her in his life. God, he hoped that was true. “It will never happen,” he said softly.   
  
Lettie was about to say something to him when W.D. yelled over to Phillip.   
  
“Carlyle! Come here a minute!” Phillip looked over at Lettie, the woman giving him an encouraging nod.   
  
Phillip hesitantly approached W.D., Anne and Tom. Anne was once again on the ground, standing beside the horse as she talked to Tom. She must not have noticed W.D. calling Phillip over, because when she looked up she seemed surprised he was there. He looked at Anne for a split second the two just awkwardly stared at each other.  
  
“What can I do for you?” Phillip asked, breaking the spell. He turned to W.D. quickly, sticking his hands in his pockets. Anne looked away.   
  
“Tom here is-” W.D. began, still smiling.  
  
“Alright enough,” Tom snapped, as if already knowing what W.D. was going to say. He snatched the horse’s reins away from the trapeze artist. “ _I’ll_ put him away.” Tom huffed, beginning to walk the horse out of the building. Anne followed after him. W.D. let out a small laugh, moving to follow the two. He stopped in his tracks, as if suddenly remembering that Phillip was still there.  
  
“Why don’t you come with us to the barn, Carlyle,” W.D. said. Phillip must have looked hesitant, because W.D. explained himself. “I saw how cautious you always were around the circus animals.”  
  
“They were big,” Phillip shrugged weakly.   
  
“They were trained well,” W.D. pointed out. “They were like dogs.”   
  
“Never had a dog,” Phillip shrugged again, though he found himself walking with W.D. nonetheless.  
  
“Not even as a kid?” W.D. seemed surprised at that. Anne and him had a dog when they were younger. Sure, she was a scraggly looking thing, but she was a faithful companion. She hunted with W.D. and stood vigilant over the them while they slept at night. He still missed that dog sometimes.  
  
“Father was never interested in dogs being in his _pristine_ home.”  
  
“You’re father’s an ass,” W.D. said bluntly. Phillip chose not to respond.  
  
A few steps later and they were at the barn. It was essentially a shed, neatly tucked away behind the circus in an alleyway. W.D. took Marengo’s reins from Tom, tying the horse to a wooden support beam. Phillip watched Anne step forward, the two Wheelers working to untack the horse. W.D. pulled off the leather saddle, setting it down on the rack beside the stall. Anne set the bridle down on top. They then locked Marengo in his stall, throwing him some grain and hay. Once the horse was settled in, the four of them began to walk the few feet back to the circus building. Anne was now beside Phillip. He wasn’t sure if it was intentional or not, so he tried not to look at her.   
  
“My brother playing nice now?” She asked Phillip with a raised eyebrow. W.D. and Tom were a few paces ahead of them, out of earshot. It took him a moment to realize she was talking to him.  
  
“I think,” Phillip said with a shrug. W.D. was definitely warming up to Phillip, he just wasn’t sure if that was a permanent thing. He looked down at his feet for a split second, causing him to slam right into W.D., the man built like a brick wall.  
  
“W.D., what-” Phillip began, confused. The words died in his mouth when he saw the scene in front of him.  
  
Blocking the alleyway was a group of ten men, clearly waiting for the performers. One man stepped forward.  
  
“Hello, Phillip,” the man said, ominously. His Italian accent thick. Phillip assumed he was the leader. The man was brandishing a bat, twirling it between his fingers. The stranger took a casual step toward the performers, Phillip and W.D. instinctual tensing up.   
  
Phillip stepped in front of Anne, protectively.   
  
“Gentlemen,” Phillip said, trying to remain casual. His deep red suit vibrant in the dark alleyway. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave.”  
  
The Italian men chuckled, making Phillip feel all the more uneasy.  
  
“Let me introduce myself,” the man with the bat said, taking another step towards Phillip. “I am Cristiano Morreti, and Mr. Bell is very angry with you.”   
  
The rest of his men started to walk around, taking slow, methodical steps. Slowly, they were beginning to surround the performers and ringmaster. Phillip watched them, wide eyed.  
  
“Mr. Morreti-” Phillip began, nervously licking his lips.  
  
“Cristiano,” the mobster corrected.  
  
“Cristiano,” Phillip nodded, deciding to appease the man in an attempt to defuse the situation. “Surely we can talk this out. I can meet with Mr.Bell and-”  
  
“No no no,” the man waved his hand to quiet Phillip. He took another step forward, now an arms reach away from Phillip. He moved his bat forward, pointing it at Phillip Carlyle’s chest. “You’re gonna come with us, right now.”  
  
There was now a circle of men surrounding the performers, boxing them in. Phillip felt Anne grab his hand, lacing her fingers with his. Fear was starting to set in.   
  
“Like hell he is,” W.D. snarled, still beside Phillip. The muscular acrobat puffed out chest, sizing up the Italian in front of him. W.D. Wheeler was no stranger to fights.   
  
“You think I’m afraid of a bunch of circus freaks?” The man let out a menacing laugh, gesturing to the group of them. “No.”   
  
An unexpected punch went sailing into Phillip’s gut, doubling him over. He started coughing and gasping for air, his hands and knees hitting the ground as he struggled for air. He heard W.D. punch someone, sending them flying into a trash can. Anne quickly wrapped her arms around his shoulders, unsure how to help him.  
  
Phillip shifted, weakly standing up. He swayed slightly before regaining his footing. Slowly, he pushed Anne behind him, wanting her and Tom to escape the situation as fast as possible. He was thankful that the men only seemed interesting in fighting Phillip and W.D.  
  
Phillip swung, his fist connecting with Cristiano’s chin. The man recoiled back, pain shooting through his body. The mobster shook his head, trying to get the ringing out of his ears. He then raised his fists and Phillip took another swing. This time, Cristiano ducked, Phillip’s fist sailing over his head. The mobster countered, a punch landing on Phillip’s cheek.   
  
He hit the ground with a thud, groaning. He sat up, spitting out some blood, his teeth stained red. He was blinking, trying to regain composure. He was a bit dazed.  
  
“Phillip!” Anne cried, throwing herself on the ground beside him. She hovered over him, gently inspecting his face. He looked up at her worried face, his eyes unfocused. He felt like he was dreaming, floating. Her hand cupped his chin as she looked at his bruising cheek. He slowly reached up and weakly pushed some of the hair out of her face. Suddenly reality came crashing back down on him. He had to help W.D.  
  
She must have felt him moving to get up, because her hands landed on his chest, encouraging him to stay on the ground. She didn’t want him to get up, if he got up he would get hit again.  
  
“Anne, run,” he pleaded weakly.  
  
“What? No, I’m not leaving you-”  
  
“Go,” Phillip begged. “Go! Please.”   
  
Before Anne could respond to him, Cristiano grabbed Phillip by his suit and pulled him to his feet. He pushed Phillip back a step, releasing him from his grasp.  
  
“Enough!” The man barked. He waved his men away from W.D. and, for a second, Phillip thought it was over. Then there was a click, a  switchblade now shining in Cristiano’s hand. Phillip looked at the men wide-eyed, and for a split second, there was just silence. Heavy breathing and the whooshing of wind.   
  
Then they were suddenly on him, Anne crying as the Italian mobsters punched him and pulled him to the ground. He felt the blade slash open his shoulder, causing him to let out a muffled cry of pain.   
  
It was funny that, in that moment, he was more concerned about his ringmaster suit than his own bodily harm.   
  
W.D. was desperately trying to pull them off Phillip, but it was to no avail. A swift punch was delivered to Phillip’s head in an attempt to knock him out. Cristiano stood up, wild-eyed as he brandished the bloody knife in front of W.D., Phillip was sprawled out on the ground, barely conscious.   
  
“You want to be next?” Cristiano challenged. Anne was trying to push forward to see what was happening to Phillip, W.D. holding her back with his arm. Slowly, the Italians began to back up, dragging behind them a now limp Phillip. As soon as Cristiano’s attention shifted, W.D. charged the man in a desperate attempt to save Phillip.  
  
There was a swish from the blade, W.D. receiving a quick slash on the arm. It barely fazed him.  
  
“Phillip?!” Anne cried out, running after the men, Tom and W.D. following. The men vanished around a corner and then were gone. Disappearing into the night.


	22. Chapter 22

Anne couldn’t sleep that night. Every time she tried shutting her eyes all she could hear was Phillip’s pained cries. She sighed, staring up at the high ceiling above them. She swallowed hard, holding back tears. She had been in too much of a daze to change her clothes. She was still wearing her purple show costume, minus the bright pink wig. The cheerful purple cloth and pretty rhinestones were a stark contrast to how she felt right now.  
  
W.D. was snoring loudly beside her. She wondered how he was able to sleep when one of their friends had been kidnapped right in front of them. All she could think about was the Italian men that had dragged Phillip away from them. _Away from her._  
  
They had come out of nowhere, God, how did she not hear them?  
  
They had hit him, hard. She wished he had just stayed down that first time, it might not have saved him, but it could have spared him all the extra pain. A punch in the face, a stab in the shoulder. He had been determined to get right back up, something that made her both admire and hate him. He was always ready to fight, despite not being a fighter. It was one of his many flaws. Deep down, she knew her anger was irrational, that it wasn’t Phillip’s fault. Her anger came from caring about him so much.  
  
Maybe they all could’ve just ran, then everyone would be under the same roof again, sleeping. They’d be shaken, but they’d be safe.  
  
Instead he was gone.  
  
She was in shock when they disappeared with his unconscious body. She had run after them. She didn’t know where they had went but she was still going to follow, she’d have scoured the entire city if it meant finding him. Had W.D. not grabbed her arm instantly, Anne would have aimlessly wandered around the streets until morning.  
  
She remembered struggling against her brother’s firm grasp. She told him that she had to follow Phillip. She was so numb, so in shock, that it almost felt like Phillip had simply gone for a late night stroll. Maybe he had gone to the bar, she knew how he drowned out things with whiskey. It hadn’t quite set in that he wasn’t just coming back.  
  
It still didn’t.  
  
When her brother didn’t let go, she had started to break down. She begged W.D., crying and trying to push him away from her, angrily pounding on his chest. He had just wrapped his arms around her, restraining her against his chest with a hug. She was short enough that he was able to envelop her completely. He rested his chin on top of her head and rocked her back and forth gently. That was how he subdued her enough to go back inside.  
  
He had promised Anne the police would find him, but they didn’t. It was passed midnight and they still hadn’t found him. The rational part of her brain told her that he didn’t mean it would happen so suddenly.  
  
Everyone had found out what happened when W.D. dragged her inside. Tom did most of the explaining, Anne not in much of a good state. Their reactions were the same as her own, horrified and in disbelief. They too reassured her that the authorities would find Phillip, she wondered how they were so sure. How were they able to be so positive?  
  
Barnum had called the police as soon as it had happened. They agreed to have a few men stand guard at the circus that night while the rest searched the city. They were stationed at both front and back entrances of the circus, watching for anyone trying to get in or out. It still didn’t make her feel safe, though she had a feeling that no amount of security would.  
  
Beside her, W.D. was shifting in his sleep, growing restless. His muscular arm was proudly displaying white gauze, wrapped tightly against his skin. It covered up the cut he had received when trying to save Phillip. Seeing the bandage made Anne’s heart drop. He was lucky it was only his arm, and that the knife wasn’t aimed for his throat.  
  
She shivered at the thought.  
  
“Anne?” He said suddenly. She looked up at him, surprised. He was now laying on his side, watching her carefully.    
  
“I thought you were asleep,” she said softly. W.D. shrugged.  
  
“It comes and goes.”  
  
He didn’t ask her why she was awake.  
  
“They’ll find him in the morning, Anne,” W.D. promised, knowing she was still thinking about Phillip.  
  
“How do you know?” She asked him, voice small.  
  
“It’s faith.” She wanted to laugh.  
  
_Faith._ Her and W.D. were both born and raised Christians, yet they were so drastically different in how they lived their lives. W.D. was always the faithful and hopeful one. The clouds would part and they would pull through. Anne always preferred facts and evidence, never content just to sit and pray.  
  
“You should get some sleep,” he continued, gently encouraging her. She didn’t respond, still staring up at the ceiling. She could feel his eyes burning holes into her. He let out a defeated sigh, rolling over.  
  
What she didn’t tell him was that she was afraid to sleep. What if she did and forgot the last few seconds she saw of Phillip? What if those few seconds were the last thing she would ever see of Phillip? She knew she wouldn’t be able to sleep that night.  
  
It rained all night.


	23. Chapter 23

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My new goal is to have at least one longer chapter every week, hopefully we can improve that number from there! Thank you so much for continuing to read! Love you all

“Wake up, Sleepyhead,” Anne whispered gently, brushing a feather-soft kiss to his forehead. Phillip squirmed slightly in his sleep, letting out a small groan as his eyes cracked opened. When he looked up at her he couldn’t help but smile. She looked absolutely angelic. “Hey,” she said once he opened his eyes, still whispering.  
  
“Hi,” he whispered back, staring into her brown eyes. The sun had just started to rise, washing their room in a gentle sunlight. It was so serene, just the two of them laying in _their_ bed in _their_ home. She was hovering above him using her arm to prop herself up. He smiled, pushing her hair out of her face, his fingers trailing down her cheek. She let out a small chuckle. He stared at her for a moment longer before slowly leaning up to kiss her-  
  
A bucket of ice-cold water violently pulled him from his dream. The freezing water drenched his head, his lungs burning as he struggled for air. He was gasping and choking, disoriented as he shook the frigid water droplets from his hair. It felt like he was drowning, or that he died and had just came back to life.  
  
“I said wake up!” A man snarled from behind, clearly having lost his patience. Phillip was slowly trying to catch his breath, his head resting against the back of the chair he was placed in. His eyelids fluttered closed, still breathing heavily. Fingers were snapped next to his ear, startling him. His blue eyes shot open again.  
  
He was in a dark, cold room, one he didn’t recognize. The few light bulbs that hung from the ceiling clicked on, blinding Phillip. He let out a hiss, quickly moving to shield his eyes with his hand. His wrist was surprisingly heavy. He looked down slowly, seeing the chains that bound him to the very chair he was sitting in. Phillip blinked hard, trying to adjust his eyes to the suddenly bright room. His head felt heavy, like it was made of solid lead. Exhaustion and pain made it difficult to keep his head up, forcing him to look down at the concrete floor.  
  
He looked down at the sorry image of himself being reflected off his shoes. He was still wearing his bright red suit, the one he held so near and dear to him. It was a gift from Barnum, one of the greatest gifts Phillip had ever received. He was thankful it wasn't too damaged, though he same couldn't be said about his face. His one eye was starting to bruise shut, though he was still able to see out of it at this point in time, his jaw was also turning an ugly shade of purple. It was a similar look to when he got into the bar fight a few months back. He couldn’t laugh at the similarities, he was too confused at everything that was happening.  
  
“Good morning,” a new voice said, a door swinging shut as the man entered. Phillip heard the man’s footsteps before he saw him, shiny shoes appearing on floor in front of him. “It’s good to finally be able to talk to you.”  
  
_That voice. He recognized that voice._  
  
Phillip slowly lifted his head, his neck protesting at the movement. In front of him stood none other than Abraham Bell, the man’s shadow intensified from the light bulb dangling behind him. Phillip let out a startled gasp, the wind knocked out of him. So many emotions ran through his foggy head, anger, betrayal, confusion.  
  
“Mr. Bell?! Wh- wh-” Phillip struggled for words that weren’t there. His mind was now racing.  
  
“Still confused I see,” Bell observed. “You took quite a good beating, it may take a while to remember everything.” Bell looked over Phillip’s head, looking at the man standing behind him. “Though, Christiano assured me it was necessary.” Phillip turned his head slightly, hearing the man shuffle forward, as if on cue. Christiano walked to Bell’s side, casually folding his hands behind his back. Both men were wearing the same black tuxedo, though Bell's was unbuttoned.

“You? You-” Phillip was staring in disbelief at the Italian man before him. _He remembered Christiano_.  “Mr. Bell? You hired him? To kidnap me?” The sentence came out in fragments, Phillip’s head pounding in confusion. None of this was making sense to his scrambled brain.  
  
“Phillip,” the man clicked his tongue, like a father would when he was disappointed in his son. His voice had the tiniest grain of sympathy, yet another thing that confused Phillip.  
  
“I trusted you. You use to be like a second father to-”  
  
“You’re a boy playing a man’s game,” Bell interrupted, not letting Phillip finish.  
  
“Where am I?” Phillip suddenly asked, eyes darting around the room again. He struggled against his chains, pulling against them angrily. A sharp pain suddenly shot up his arm, causing him to bite back a pained yelp. He was then reminded of the stab wound on his shoulder. _Right._ Phillip’s hair was flat against his head, sweat and water droplets dripping off of his dirty blond strands.  
  
“Are your men the same bunch of assholes that are always protesting outside our circus?” Phillip asked, intent on getting an answer of some sort.  
  
Christiano let out a deep chuckle, as if Phillip said something that was absolutely hilarious.  
  
“Language,” Bell chided, disapprovingly, though smiling slightly. “You kiss your mother with that mouth?” When Phillip didn’t respond, Bell relented with a sigh. “Oh, dear, young, naive, Phillip. Protesting isn’t exactly… up my alley.”  
  
“Then what do you want?” The ringmaster growled. Everything was starting to slowly come back to him, images flashing through his head. _Fragments._  
  
_The circus, he was outside with Tom and W.D. and…_  
  
“So many questions,” Bell chastised. He crouched down so he was eye-level with Phillip, like when an adult talked to a small child. He seemed to be quickly losing patience with the young Carlyle.  
  
_And Anne, he was with Anne._  
  
“What did you do?” Phillip gritted his teeth, struggling against the chains again. He threw himself forward, as much as his binds would allow. He was mere inches from Bell’s face, the smug man not even flinching.  
  
_They had surrounded the four of them._  
  
“Where are your manners? I would have thought the _respectable_ John Carlyle would have raised his son better,” Bell commented. “Or at least Martha. Such a stickler for _sophistication,_ your Mother,” Bell stood up, taking a step back from Phillip. “You’re in _my_ house, so you’re gonna follow _my_ rules.”  
  
There was a long pause, Phillip gritting his teeth as he processed what was being said. Hearing Bell talk about his parents made him sick. Despite all their flaws and the anger he harbored toward them, Phillip didn’t want to hear such a vile man talk about his family, or anyone that he loved. His parents could be so close-minded, and so hateful, but ultimately they loved him. It continues to be the toughest thing Phillip has to deal with.  
  
“I’m listening.”  
  
Phillip raised his head, setting his jaw in determination. He gritted his teeth at the aching pain now flaring up from his jawbone. His fingers curled into fists. He was tasting the old blood in his mouth, remembering the punch he had received.  
  
_The fist on his cheek, the blood staining his teeth._  
  
“I bet you are,” Bell smiled. He seemed content with Phillip’s answer, giving him a smug smile. Mr. Bell turned around, beginning to walk toward the same door he had entered through.  
  
“Aren’t you gonna tell me what they are?” Phillip asked in confusion, almost demanding he be answered.  
  
“Oh, you’ll figure them out on your own, I’m sure,” Bell nodded to Christiano. “After all Phillip, what’s the fun in giving you all the answers? I want this to be a learning process for you.”  The door slammed shut, Bell now gone.  
  
Phillip let out a shaky exhale, lowering his head in defeat. He listened as Christiano walk off to somewhere else in the room. Phillip sighed, throwing his head back against the chair, frustrated. He inhaled deeply, closing his eyes. He was worried about the circus and the performers. He was worried about _Anne._  
  
Drowsiness slowly crept up on him, a welcome distraction to the confusion he was currently living. _Anne_ , he could be with Anne in his dreams. He wondered what she was doing now, silently praying that she was doing okay after the scuffle in the alleyway.  
  
 A swift slap to his cheek brought him back to reality.  
  
“Rule number one!” Christiano barked, seeming to have a sick joy in doing this. “No sleeping.”  
  
Phillip let out a grunt, rolling his eyes. It was going to be a long night.


	24. Chapter 24

It was a quiet morning in the backstage of the circus, almost peaceful, in a sense. The rain was unrelenting outside, the air chilly. Anne shifted, sighing as eyes fluttering open, slowly waking up. She groggily scratched her head. She knew she was missing something, but her tired brain wasn’t cooperating with her. Then realization hit.   
  
She had fallen asleep while waiting for Phillip.  
  
She shot up, suddenly alarmed and panicked. _How could she fall asleep?!_ She looked around the room quickly. The backstage was empty, and not in a ‘people fluttering around here and there’ sense of empty, but truly empty. Anne all but fell out of her bed. She hissed as her feet touched the cold, wooden floor. Her eyes swept the room, trying to find another soul. _Where was everyone?_  
  
Where was her brother? Lettie? Constantine? Tom?   
  
She pulled on her beige robe, knowing the purple leotard, that she had fallen asleep in, wasn’t enough to keep her warm on this cold September morning. Outside, the rain continued to hammer against the sides of the circus building. She turned her head, hearing chatter being drowned out by the steady pitter-patter of rain. It was coming from the other side of the curtain. She stood there for a moment, frozen. A smile spread across her face, her heart swelled.   
  
Phillip.  
  
It had to be.  
  
She ran full speed into the main curtain, too excited to simply step through it. The performers were all standing in the center of the arena, intently listening to someone talk. There was a man in the very middle of the crowd, talking to the group as a whole. He must have said something important, for there was a rush of murmurs. Anne skidded to a stop, smile unwavering.  
  
“Phillip?!” She suddenly said, voice cracking. The room fell silent, everyone turning to look at her. She was scanning over all their heads, searching for Phillip Carlyle and his ice blue eyes. _God, she missed those eyes._   
  
“Anne-” W.D. stepped forward, weaving through the crowd. His voice was hesitant and soft.   
  
She didn’t notice.  
  
He reached his arm out to stop her, she wouldn’t like what she’d see. Anne barely acknowledged he was there, brushing passed him as she continued to scan the crowd for Phillip. She was intent on seeing him. The performers watched her, their faces forlorn. They stepped out of her way, clearing a path for her. She finally reached the center, W.D. hot on her tail. He called after her again, but it fell on deaf ears.  
  
Their bleak expressions were another thing she should have noticed.  
  
Phillip wasn’t there, in the middle. Instead it was Lettie, Constantine and Barnum. They were now staring up at her, speechless. The rest of the performers took a large step back, giving Anne space.  
  
“No,” she said softly, like a whisper. W.D. barely even heard it. “No,” she said again, voice cracking this time. She stumbled backwards, as if she was punched in the gut. She would have fallen over if W.D. hadn’t grabbed her.  
  
“Anne,” W.D. said gently.   
  
“They didn’t find him yet?” She cried out, now turning to Barnum. The man wasn’t wearing his ringmaster suit, it was one of the few times Anne had ever seen him wear something other than red. He looked so miserable whenever he wasn’t wearing it. She associated his normal clothes with grim news, it was the only time he ever wore ‘casual’ suits.  
  
“They’re not giving up,” Barnum promised, his hands fidgeting. “Anne,” he said her name to emphasis what came next. “ _We’re_ not giving up.”  
  
Anne looked down at the ground, swallowing back tears that didn’t exist. “What do they know?”  
  
He looked away.  
  
“Barnum?” She pleaded, sensing his hesitation. So many thoughts raced through her head. _Is he already dead? Was he-_  
  
“They don’t have anything yet,” he said suddenly, sticking his hands in his pockets. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking away with a sigh.  
  
“What?” Anne’s whimpered. “How? How could they not know anything-”  
  
“He’s just gone, there’s no trace…” Barnum’s voice trailed off. He shook his head and had to walk away. He too was having a hard time coping with Phillip’s disappearance. It was like losing a son. Him and Charity agreed it was best if Helen and Caroline didn’t know. It would break their hearts.  
  
“ _Gone?_ ” Anne asked, her voice faint. W.D. had almost forgotten what her voice sounded like without the hopelessness it currently possessed.  
  
“They have men scouring the streets right now,” Lettie added gently, trying to reassure Anne. She rested her hand on Anne’s cheek for just a moment before walking after Barnum.   
  
“Anne.” W.D. stepped forward and placed his hands on his sister’s elbows. There was nothing else that they could tell her, and he just wanted to get her away from everyone. She most certainly didn’t need an audience right now. “Come on,” he said softly. He was surprised when she stiffened up under his touch, hesitant to leave.  
  
“Come on,” he repeated, tugging her gently. She gave in reluctantly, letting him lead her backstage.   
  
“Sit down,” he urged, motioning to her bed. She still seemed so tired.  
  
“Why didn’t you wake me?” Anne suddenly demanded, catching her brother off guard. He sighed, head dropping. He knew this conversation was going to come up eventually. W.D. pulled up a chair in front of her, sitting down.  
  
“Anne-” he began, grabbing her tiny hands. She cut him off.  
  
“I should have been the first to know they didn’t find him,” she said stubbornly. The fear of crying wasn’t there, she had cried too much now. There were no more tears to be shed.   
  
“Anne, you needed rest,” W.D. said exasperated. “I know you want-”  
  
“I want to see _Phillip_.”   
  
W.D. sighed in defeat, dropping her hands. He ran his hands over his head in frustration.  
  
“If I wasn’t distracted maybe I could have-” Anne began.  
  
“It’s not your fault,” W.D. shook his head.   
  
Anne sighed, falling into her bed. She laid down on her back, crossing her hands over her chest. She stared up at the ceiling like she did that past night. W.D. let out a loud exhale, leaning back in his chair. He followed her eyes.   
  
“What if he doesn’t come back, W.D.?” She whispered, almost afraid to say it out loud.  
  
“Hey,” W.D. said softly. When she didn’t look up at him, he tried again. “Hey.” She turned her head slightly to look at him. “He’s coming back Anne. We’ll find him.”  
  
“You really think so?”   
  
W.D. nodded.  
  
“When was the last time Phillip Carlyle _actually_ stayed out of our hair?” He said humorously, Anne chuckling at that. “And besides, it's clear he likes you. There’s nothing that’s gonna keep him from getting back to you.”  
  
Anne looked over at W.D., surprised. She wasn’t use to hearing him talk about Phillip so affectionately. Her brother must have noticed this, because he explained himself.  
  
“Oh come on, Anne,” W.D. sighed, unable to hold back a smile. “I hated Carlyle because I care about you.” W.D. crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d have to be blind to not see how much he likes you.” Anne smiled at that. “Do I look blind to you?”  
  
“No, W.D.,” she said with a smile. W.D. chuckled.   
  
“We’ll find him. Promise.”


	25. Chapter 25

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait <3

The next time the light flicked on, Phillip Carlyle was prepared. He watched as Bell entered the room with his right-hand, Christiano Moretti. As Bell stepped in, Moretti moved behind Phillip.   
  
“Phillip,” Bell greeted. He pulled a metal chair up in front of his hostage. The steel screeching against the concrete floor. Bell sighed, plopping himself down in the chair. He had an interesting habit of sitting backwards in chairs. If Phillip had to guess, it was a poor attempt at intimidation.   
  
It didn’t scare Phillip.  
  
“You’ve been here for a day now,” Bell began, casual. It was as if he was talking to a friend at a bar. He looked down at his pocket watch, like he was checking the exact moment Phillip was brought to him.   
  
“But I bet you already knew that. No food, water or sleep?” Bell made a ‘sympathetic’ face that had Phillip’s stomach churning. “That must wear on you quick, huh? Quicker than you’d imagine…” His voice trailed off. He titled his head, waiting for a reaction.  
  
Phillip was seated, still bound by chains. He remained quiet. He was not interested in Abraham Bell’s small-talk. He knew Bell was trying to get him to drop his guard, but for what he wasn’t sure.   
  
“It’s written on every headline, you know,” Bell changed the subject. “ _Carlyle Heir, Kidnapped at Barnum Circus,_ ” he gestured around with his hands as he spoke. Phillip didn’t even move. “You know, this could all be over today.”  
  
Still no reaction.  
  
“Who’s this Anne I always hear you crying on about?” Bell asked, taking out a cigar and lighting it. “Whenever I send Mr. Morreti in here to _negotiate_ with you, I always hear ‘Anne! Anne!’,” Bell said in a mocking voice, making Phillip sound like a little boy.   
  
He took a huff of his cigar, and blew out a little smoke. He was clearly agitated that Phillip didn’t even so much as cough. The young Carlyle was like a statue. He grunted, twirling the stick of tobacco between his fingers.   
  
“Well, maybe I should pay this ‘Anne’ a visit? Hm? What do you think about that, Phi-”   
  
“Enough with the games. What do you want, Bell?” Phillip snapped, having enough of the man and his incessant talking. Hearing Bell talk about Anne made him nauseas. He tried not to show it.  
  
“I wanted to talk to you about your father,” Bell said, placing his cigar back in his mouth.  
  
“About what?”   
  
“Your father’s little gang of misfits. The O’Shaughnessy’s,” he let out an amused huff at the family name. William Carlyle’s men were like puppies, eager to please but clumsy and untrained.   
  
“What?” Phillip Carlyle suddenly titled his head in confusion. Out of all things to be asked, he wasn’t expecting _that_.   
  
“Your father’s men,” Bell repeated. “Where does William have his shanty hideout?”  
  
“What the hell are you talking about?” Phillip was lost.  
  
“Lying to me is against one of the rules Carlyle,” Bell warned. He heard Cristiano step forward an inch. His heavy dress shoes making a loud thud that resonated throughout the quiet room.  
  
“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about-”  
  
“I don’t believe that.”  
  
“I don’t know-”  
  
“I’m gonna give you one last chance-”  
  
“I don’t know!” Phillip yelled this time. He shot up off his chair as far as the chains would allow. He fell back into the creaky oak chair with a huff. “I don’t know what you’re talking about! I don’t know who you’re talking about.”  
  
Bell let out an interested hum, leaning back in his chair. He motioned to Cristiano. Phillip heard the man shuffle forward, now standing in front of him. Cristiano turned to look at Bell, the man nodding in approval. A swift punch was delivered to Phillip’s abdomen. Fast and unexpected.    
  
“Do you know now?” Bell asked with an amused smile. He still believed that Phillip knew _something_. He had to.  
  
“No,” Phillip grunted, hiding the pain as he cracked his neck. He gritted his teeth and stared Morreti down.  
  
He received another blow. Then another, then another.  
  
“You really don’t know, do you?” Bell said, the punches suddenly stopping. The man was intrigued. He stood up, beginning to pace around the room. Morreti stepped back to give him more room, the torturer disappearing into the shadows.  
  
Phillip was hunched over, spitting out blood. He merely let out a grunt in response.   
  
“Interesting. Of course, I never told _my_ daughter but,” Bell stopped in his tracks, turning to look down at Phillip. “But William? He’s a prideful man,” Abraham leaned down. “Hell, _you_ were supposed to take over for him when the time came.”  
  
“What do you mean? I don’t understand. I don’t- I don’t-”   
  
Bell sighed, turning to Morreti. The man stepped forward, cracking his knuckles. Phillip slowly raised his chin, determined not to look at Cristiano. And to both of their surprise, Bell stopped the man in his tracks.  
  
“That’s enough for now, Mr. Morreti. You may leave us.”   
  
Christiano looked over at his boss, surprised. He looked as if he wanted to question the order, but thought better of it. The man bowed, leaving the room. The door slammed shut behind him.  
  
“Your father,” Bell sighed, straightened his suit before sitting back down in front of Phillip. “Owns a gang of Irishmen. You want me to believe you know nothing about that?”  
  
“I don’t know anything about that,” Phillip said, reluctant to answer. He was still breathing heavy from all the punches to his gut.  
  
“Interesting indeed,” Bell frowned, staring at his stub of a cigar.  
  
“Sir?” One of Bell’s men stepped in, nervous about interrupting the mob boss. He was holding a small piece of paper between his shaking hands.  
  
“What!” Bell snapped, turning around angrily. The man raised the piece of paper slightly, so Bell could see.  
  
“We have a message from Mr. Carlyle,” the man said, anxious. Phillip’s eyes narrowed in confusion. _His father?_   
  
Bell turned to look at Phillip, and with a sigh he stood up. Phillip watched as Mr. Bell began to talk to the man by the door, their tones hushed. Bell snatched the paper up and began to read it quickly, making comments to the man in front of him as he read. Phillip was trying to figure out what they were saying, but it was to no avail. The door suddenly slammed shut and Bell turned around, steaming. He jammed the letter into the inside of his coat.  
  
“I don’t get what this is for-” Phillip said, gesturing to the room around him. It was all still so confusing to him.  
  
“This is about many things, Phillip,” Bell spat, marching towards him. “You hurt my daughter, but its much more than that. I’m putting your father in his place, and if I get the chance, the ground.”  
  
“I don’t-”  
  
“They have my Sarah,” Bell suddenly whispered, it made Phillip shiver. The man was characteristically loud, to suddenly be silent made Phillip’s hair stand on end. He grabbed Carlyle by his lapels. “Your father kidnapped my daughter as revenge for capturing your miserable self.”  
  
Phillip’s heart was thudding. Despite being a Bell, he worried for Sarah. What would his father do to her? He couldn’t stomach to think about it.  
  
“Enough with the games, I am through with games. I want answers, you hear me? Answers!”  
  
“Why are you doing this?” Phillip said.   
  
“Listen to me, Phillip," Bell ordered, hands now gripping the Carlyle's shoulders. "I don't want to have to hurt you again. You said you saw me as a father to you at one point, well I saw you as a son. I do not want to keep going through all this with you."

"Then don't, just let me go," Phillip pleaded with the man's humane side. "It's not to late, you can stop this. I can talk to my dad-"

"It _is_ too late now. He has Sarah," Bell released Phillip, taking a step backwards. "I will do everything in my power to get her back, so I suggest you start being as cooperative as possible with me."  
  
“It doesn’t have to be like this-”  
  
“Yes it does,” Bell interrupted. “When two of the most powerful men in New York start a gang war, only one makes it out.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first work posted to Ao3 so comments are very appreciated!


End file.
